The Evans Boy
by SoulEaterUnlimited
Summary: Soul Eater Evans, secrets revealed as you're taken deeper into what life was like growing up in the Evans family.
1. The Newest Evans

_**Soul Eater Evans**_

The youngest son of the Evans family.

A delighted mothers face lights up in enthusiasm as she receives her new baby. The nurse only noticed the slight details of the strange newborn that made him difficult to dub a human. His red eyes, and white hair that somewhat sprouted through his bald head. It was unusual for a baby to even have hair after first being introduced to this world and the child before her had a tiny coat of white.

"What will you be naming him, ?", the nurse spoke in her brightest voice, trying to ensure a comforting atmosphere even while she's panicking in her head.

"_Soul Eater_.", she replied brightly.

_"A weird name to match a strange child. Then again I guess it's no different from the name "Black*Star", and that child had just been born in the next room over! They should be friends, they might be the only kids able to get past the bazaar looks and names of each other. I'm not sure either of these kids have a very bright future, what a shame."_, the nurse thought.

The father soon entered the delivery room, followed by his seven year old son.

"Wes, take a look at your baby brother.", the man guided the boy next to his mother, cradling the small child.

"Ooh! What's his name?", Wes cooed, mesmerized by the similarities in their hair and eyes.

"Soul Eater.", the mother softly stated, allowing the child to sleep peacefully in her arms.

"Wonderful, he'll be just as extraordinary as Wes!", the father exclaimed.

"Let's have this one play the piano, I'd love to have a pianist in the family wouldn't you? What do you think Wes?_ Piano?_", she nodded towards her son who stared blankly into the baby's face.

"Piano!", he cheered.

The family rejoiced over their newborn son. He'd soon be another excellent, musical genius in the Evans family. A day later they were allowed to take the baby, after they requested extensive health check ups on the baby's blood pressure, mental health, and physique. They paid extra to ensure he'd be well maintained and that they'd have no issue with introducing him to a piano at such a young age.

The boy was two and a half when they introduced him to a piano for the first time. He'd already been familiarized with music, it was constantly played throughout the home and practiced by Wes for up to four hours at a time. Their everyday lives seemed to be revolved around music, and in no time flat they made sure their son would be an absolute prodigy when it came to an instrument. They purchased a piano and had it immediately delivered to their mansion.

"Soul Eater come here.", His mothers soft voice called him over to where she stood, next to a grand piano.

"Okay Mommy.", he stammered, failing to remember the words his mother requested she'd be addressed.

"That's Mother, dear. Not Mommy.", she corrected, guiding him towards the piano.

He didn't know what to say next, he took a seat at the long bench next to her as she'd requested.

"What is this?", he asked in a low voice, poking the keys as they made different sounds.

"A piano, Soul Eater. You're going to learn how to play with it.", she began to guide his hands to his sides as he made a somewhat unpleasant noise. He wanted to keep playing with it the way he had been, he thought it was quite amusing, but he'd still yet learn how to speak in complete sentences.

She began to speak in big words, in which he couldn't understand. Soon he found himself being commanded to play. He tried, unable to listen clearly upon her command and messing up from time to time. His mother began to feel irritated, as the boy hadn't taken to playing as naturally as she'd hoped.  
After another failed attempt at playing she sent him to his room, where he'd be able to think clearly upon the lesson that had just been demonstrated to him far more than she felt necessary.

"He isn't learning as fast as I thought he would, what if he isn't as musically gifted as Wes?", she complained.

"Now now, calm down, he will pick it up eventually. It was his first time after all, even Wes took about a day or two to completely master the violin.", Souls father boasted.

"Yes I know but I think we should hire a teacher, nobody is musically gifted on the piano in this family. I wouldn't be able to properly teach him, we'll call first thing in the morning."

"Absolutely, and we'll call one of the best. This one will be an excellent teacher, and his student will be an absolute prodigy.", he agreed.

Not a day passed before one of the best music teachers in the country were called over to the Evans mansion. This teacher was an old man, at least sixty years old or over. He had a musky stench and large sausage-like fingers. Above that he was overly tall, at least six feet. In other words, Soul was terrified the minute he lay one eye on the strange man.

"_Soul Eater!_", called his mother.  
Soon Soul found himself stepping extra carefully down the large narrow steps in hopes he wouldn't fall. He looked up at the man and shivered, fearing a monster.

"Monster!", he screamed.

"Soul Eater! That's terrible! is not a monster, he's much too nice. In fact he's willing to take time out of his day to teach you how to play the piano.", she spoke with no anger in her voice, knowing very well the only reason he'd been there is because of their large payment added to his salary.

"Sorry.", Soul mumbled.

"It's quite alright boy, take a seat here.", the old man said, patting a spot on the piano bench.

He did as commanded, taking yet another seat at the much too large piano, on the much too large bench, in the much too large house, next to the much too large man. Nothing seemed to make sense to him as the man spoke in even larger words to the mother, then demonstrated a play on the piano.  
He tried the same thing, only to be corrected several times before they both took a break.  
Before Soul could try to hoist himself off of the piano bench his mother stopped him, lightly gabbing his tiny shoulders.

"Soul Eater, are you sure you're trying your best?", she asked in a somewhat disappointed tone.

"Yes Mommy.", he replied, forgetting once more the word he'd been instructed to call her.

"Mother, Soul Eater, and are you really sure? That man is a very good teacher and you don't seem to be getting it.", she corrected with a stern look on her face.

"Sorry Mother.", he looked down at his dangling feet, trying to imitate the way in which she'd said the word.

"When comes back I want you to try extra hard, alright?", she lightly tapped his shoulders, directing him towards the piano once more.

Soon the man came back, not but five minutes later as he entered the room to find Soul Eater in the same spot at the piano bench.

"Didn't you take your break boy?", he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Mom-_mother_,", he vaguely corrected himself, "told me to stay put so I could learn better."

"Well alright then.", he shrugged it off, taking another seat at the wide piano bench.

"Let's start with keys first, put your finger here.", he said, guiding his tiny hand to the small key at the very tip of the piano.  
He made a small sound as he pressed hard on the piano key at the very far end.

"Good, now try this one,", the man guided the toddlers hand to the next key, as Soul followed, repeating this step once more.

"Very good, now this one.", he said guiding his hand to yet another key.

The process went on until Soul was able to put two or more keys together to make a sound. At the end of the day, he was exhausted but satisfied with the warm smile his mother had given him, compared to the other day when all she'd given him was a stern look and a plastered, cold smile.

For the next few weeks the man came back and he seemed to stay longer and longer days at a time. Eventually it got to the point where he'd felt like he'd been playing all day. The man never seemed to leave, and when he did leave Soul often found himself either put to bed early or with rare minutes left in the day in which he had left to find a short game and play. Often times Wes would comfort him, reassuring he'd been doing great on the piano with much practice. Soul didn't exactly know what he meant, but he excepted the compliment as Wes often shortly after returned to his practicing on the violin. Everybody seemed to enjoy them, Soul hoped one day he'd be able to make the same amount of cheering erupt from his audience, no matter if it was in the small comforts of his large home, or a stage the size of the city itself.  
The same routine took over his life, time to time messing up on his plays, receiving punishment. Other times, doing very well and receiving approval from his mother and father. A few times he'd played the piano for over a minute and a half, his longest run without messing up, and fail to notice pre-occupied with something else.

The piano teacher stayed, no matter how bad he played or how well. He was instructed to teach him to play and that's what he did. The cost in which he'd been paid was far too much to turn down, and soon Soul caught onto the reason he'd even offered. He was an Evan, he was worth money.

* * *

About two years passed, Soul Eater turned five years old. The only thing that changed in his routine life was the fact he was now home schooled, which his parents sometimes dubbed as an interference in his piano lessons. They made a very little deal every time he'd answered a question correctly and hardly paid any attention when he fell behind on his studies. They somehow managed to treat the piano as a mandatory part of life, just like breathing, and eating, and sometimes if necessary it would prove more often than sleeping.

One day, his mother had an infuriating melt down involving him and the piano. She yelled at him, using even more big words, such as _"prodigy"_, or _"nuisance"_. She instructed him to play once more and to get it right. He tried, this was a nearly three minute piece, he'd been unable to master. It was fairly difficult to reach the keys, the piano was so large and his arms were still so small and bony.

"_Soul Eater_, listen to me right now. _Never_ in the history of the Evans family has someone been so _terrible_ at learning a new instrument, your brother Wes completely mastered his instrument in under a week. It's his life and soul, and now you're given the opportunity to make Evan family history and this is what you choose to do with it? Go to your room and you will not be dining with us tonight, you'll be going to bed hungry until told otherwise. Now march.", she ordered, after he failed once more in his poor attempt.

That night, Soul went to bed crying, with an empty stomach. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong, he tried it just as the piano teacher had instructed but the keys were so far away and the piece was so long. It was difficult, and he'd disappointed his mother in the process of being unable to learn such a _"simple"_ piece.

The pattern began to repeat, days went by and he only seemed to get worse and worse at the musical instrument. It seemed to sicken his parents and his brother had no comment. The piano instructor just sighed and drank out of a nearby wine glass once he'd been told to get back to work with the small Evans boy. As he only got worse, the punishments got longer and seemingly a bit more harsh by the failures.  
"Soul Eater, if you don't start picking up on your lessons we will only have to resort to something more effective than the punishments you've been receiving, tonight you go to bed hungry and tomorrow you practice for an hour. Are we clear?", she commanded.

"Yes Mother.", he said proudly, in an attempt to impress her.

It didn't work, she was neither phased by his new word nor his positive attitude, she pointed to the stairs gaping across the stretched house, leading up to the large corridor on the second floor. He once again stumbled up the stairs, this time with a little more ease as she dismissed him to his room for the third time that week.

That night he began to ponder the change in his mothers atmosphere, he recalled when he was only two or three years old and she would lift him in her arms and call him her little Soul Eater. Now she rarely held him, and when she did it was either because she absolutely had to, or it was requested by a photographer. He shrugged it off, once again returning to bed with tears in his blood red eyes, and an empty stomach.  
Two more years later, he'd finally turned seven. The world around him began to shrink a little as it became slightly easier to get around, he could now walk down the stairs without so much as but one or two stumbles on the final steps. The piano became easier too, he could play perfectly for up to two minutes, messing up only once. Unfortunately, this wasn't good enough. It was enough to please his mother and father as he once again started receiving his familiar, comforting looks but once he managed to mess up their fury would only confine him, taking away a few privileges or simply grounding him. It seemed their moods revolved around his performance on the piano. Whether he was good or bad they maintained their blank, unusual faces until he was finally done with the piece. At the end, they started off by giving him small notes on his play and then if the piano playing was so bad that that their fury peaked they'd invent new forms of punishment. The most usual one was the going to bed without supper and the stern lecture, followed by the hour or so of practice in the morning, preformed with no breakfast.

"Mother do I really have to play the piano?", he asked one bold night, "It's boring! I hate it!", he had reached his first temper tantrum.

His mother looked sternly upon him, as if he'd just said something that completely diminished her reason for living. She looked as if he'd insulted her multiple times, before ripping up something she'd held dear to her heart. In turn, she placed a hand where her heart lay, and slapped him in the face for the first time.

"Soul Eater.", she said in a loud voice, "Go to your room!", she screamed, sending the crying child away for the fifth time that week.

It wasn't that he was bad at the piano, it was that he simply had no interest anymore. His playing began to slow as he was given boring pieces which only had very fast and irritable tones and melodies. None of it made sense to him, he just couldn't comprehend the melodies which were usually played at parties. The type of melody that would persuade someone to dance, it was the type of beautiful melody his mother always complimented. He however, thought it was boring. He found no amusement in the way it was played or the song that went with it. It was too simple, and had no true feelings put behind it.

The next day he ran down the stairs once more to find his mother waiting for him. She showed no sympathy over the small bruise on his left cheek, and no care for how small the boy was. He smiled up at her, despite her face, swelled with anger. She spoke no words and pointed to the piano bench once more. The first thing he noticed was , not being there. He looked up at her once more as she continued to point, saying no words.

Today's request was odd.

He would be required to play continuously until he'd perfected the three minute, lovely piece. This time he'd be receiving no breaks and no dinner until he'd master the piece, she even made it a point that if necessary, they would stay up all night. Nonetheless he obeyed and played as well as he could, putting every bit of effort into it. Whenever he'd finished the long piece he'd simply sit there covered in sweat and sometimes tears when his mother would stop him, look at him, and instruct him to play once more. This went on for seven hours. He'd missed his homeschooling session that day when his mother called and claimed him sick. He so badly wanted to tell his tutor she was lying, and that he so badly wanted his company, but if he had he knew very well that he didn't know the right words, and that he'd be receiving another slap.

"Soul Eater.", his mother interrupted his poorly preformed play, "I don't care how much you cry, or how tired you are, we will keep playing until you get this. In the name of the Evans family, you will be a musical genius Please, Soul Eater, don't disappoint your mother.", she stated in an utterly disappointed voice, which only struck a never in Souls little body.

He spoke no words and drowned out his mothers voice, preparing another play. This time he turned the page, to a melody that was a minute longer than the one he'd been trying to play. He showed no fear, he looked down at the keys, up at his mother, and then back once more. Before his mother could speak in disapproval he hit the first note. Then he hit another, and another, and a few more, until a symphony was playing. This melody was not at all like the one poorly executed before, this one was amazingly dark with a sinister appeal. He took much interest in everything about it, playing with perfect precision and failure to mess up or miss even one key. The recital was long, and left him drenched to the bone with sweat. In less than but ten seconds, he'd collapsed onto the keys, sleeping.

"_Soul Eater Evans_, you will be my little _musical prodigy_.", his mother cooed, carrying him to bed.


	2. The Miracle

He woke up exceedingly tired the next morning. It felt like more than just a simple recital he poured every inch of his heart in the lyrical melody of the intense, dark and malice tune. It felt as if a part of him flowed with the song, leaving him breathless and absolutely wiped out. Without even realizing it he hadn't been reading the requested music notes that went along with the song, he'd completely memorized the keys and preformed them in an order he felt necessary to execute a stunning performance which would no doubt leave his audience, in other words his mother, breathless. He was confident, he knew he'd face her and she'd be more proud of him than ever. One part of him wished she'd pay more attention to him than Wes that day, only for one simple minute. Just long enough to make him feel just as important, his strain on the piano had put a damper on his self esteem, and his feelings towards his mother.

He was too young to understand it, but he felt as if she cared more about the piano itself. She'd lost all control when he insulted it, and hadn't hesitated on slapping him in the face, as if he'd insulted her own child. Then there were times he'd treat the piano with little care, performing poorly and making a mockery of the melody itself, which in turn would earn him another, long punishment. He sensed a pattern the better he played, the more satisfied his mother tends to be. The worse he played, the more vicious punishments he'd receive and above all, he learned to never again insult the piano. He hadn't questioned her after that, afraid of another physical attack. He began to wonder whether Wes had ever been treated that way.

A few more years passed with the same routine, filled with much more disappointment than the last. This time, Soul had been unable to perform the same malice tune he had so many years before. He hadn't been able to play it again since that first night, in fact he couldn't play any four minute melodies. The song he played was a complicated, masterpiece in which if he took a good long look at he'd never had suggested it to himself in the first place. In spite of his fear of failure he needed another tune, he just so happened to stumble onto that dark and sinister play, praying it would be something he'd for once prove good at.

He turned ten years old, and continued his average routine. He'd become bored beyond belief, his days seemed to be filled with never ending routine. It would get to points where he'd become so bored he prayed someone go missing, or perhaps the piano would break due to its never ending abuse. He even considered running away, to no avail of course in which he'd remained terrified of another slap, his mother never hesitated to deliver. A few times he'd lost his temper, losing all control and using harsh words to describe the piano. Once again she treated it as if he'd insulted her own baby, and slapped him straight across the face. At one point he insulted his own mother directly, receiving a less vicious attack. She simply sent him to his room for no dinner, and this lasted for three long nights.

This punishment proved no longer effective, and she was running out of things at which she could approach him. He showed no interest in the piano, he'd been unable to make friends since he'd yet to go to an actual school, and the only person he ever really talks to is his older brother Wes. He was untouchable in her eyes, which made him even more intimidating.

One night, when he'd grown weary from his seemingly torturous constant practicing, he refused to play. His mother begged and pleaded, then commanded, demanding he'd march straight downstairs and play the piano. To no avail he stayed planted in his room, wishing her away and praying the piano would break. Nothing happened, and she had officially run out of punishments. Sending him to his room would only be what he wanted and he was un-phased by receiving no food.

A sudden idea overwhelmed her, promising sudden movement downward toward the piano followed by a perfectly executed play. She knew it had to work, it was her last option.

"Soul Eater Evans,_ I am telling your father_.", she said in a dark, furious tone.

He looked up at her. The only time he ever really saw his father was after work when he'd come home to greet his wife. He never really spoke directly to Soul, in fact it was hard to recall a time when he'd actually ever had a conversation with him. The majority of the time he saw his father was when he was downstairs at the piano, criticizing his play. His father didn't phase him, the only thing that scared him was the vicious punch he was unsure how willing his father was to deliver. Whatever the case, he was unwillingly to play the piano any longer. Just the thrill of rebelling for once in his life was enough freedom he felt necessary to carry out. Even this simple act of rebellion was enough to make him feel alive, it was a change. A change from the unchanging routine he lived every day of his life. It never changed, the very thought of anything exciting happening to him was merely a dream in his eyes. There was no chance they would give up though, and he knew it. They would keep trying until they persuaded him to play once more, and the punishment he received afterwards would be exceedingly harsh unless he somehow managed to play like a god, and even then he'd have to have high hopes they'd be in extremely great mood. In other words, there was no chance he'd make it out alive.

Suddenly, his father walked in. He had a furious look on his face, which brought the phrase to his mind, _"If looks could kill."_. If looks could kill, Soul would very well amount to a pile of ashes on the spot. The look in his eyes seemed to burn through his soul, maintaining a firm grip on his attention. For one of the first times in his life, he was truly afraid. He had the urge to run far away, in hopes of never seeing this harsh look again. The feeling in his legs had vanished, and he was terrified of what came next.

"Soul Eater Evans.", his father began, "_Why can't you be more like Wes_?".

The sentence was short, the lecture was longer, but that first sentence tore through the very depths of his soul. Out of everything he could have said, he'd only hoped that was the one thing, by some miracle, he'd forget to add. Being compared to Wes was an absolute insult to his very being, it made him ponder why he was put on earth. The simple everyday life style of the Evans household couldn't be what life was about. It was absolutely annoying. It irritated him on so many levels.  
Irritation.

A feeling he began to understand more and more everyday.

"Do you understand what family you're in? You're an Evan, whether you like it or not and you always will be.", his father continued in a much harsher tone, though it didn't have near as much affect as when he started off.

"_Evans_ men are strong, bold, cunning, handsome honest, everything you aren't. Also, they're profound at the musical arts. In all of my years I've _never_ heard of an Evans man being so stubborn that they refused to play an instrument. It's unheard of, in fact it might just make history. Yes, Soul Eater Evans, exactly where you belong. _The great hall of infamy_. Now, your mother has been _merciful_ compared to what I have in mind for you. Evans men don't hold back, remember that. I will make no hesitation of knocking you straight into your senses. Now, I suggest you march right downstairs if you know what's good for you, and your well being. In fact, just this once, I thought i'd have the entire family come down and watch you but now i'm afraid you're undeserving. Undeserving of having an audience, undeserving of the piano itself. Now,Soul Eater,", he said with a final glare, _"March."_

That was enough, it was enough rebellion to satisfy his need for change. It hadn't darkened the doorway, the words didn't phase him. He'd felt like he'd heard all of them before, or in some way or another he knew it was true. Either way this didn't scare him, and he proceeded to run downstairs. Whether or not the lecture phased him, he knew he'd be able to go on. However, the first line from his long speech rang through his ears. It seemed to last forever, the sentence repeating itself over and over. Wes, the perfect son. Wes, the musical prodigy. Wes, the Evans man. He'd been here before Soul Eater, and he intended to last much longer. Soul took a personal liking to Wes, but the fact he'd constantly live in his shadow stirred something in his stomach that had been so familiar, yet so aggravating.

He dreaded the walk down the steps which was no longer an issue for him, he dreaded looking down at the piano. Something about the music he was forced to play felt off, it felt as if he was translating another language, or as if he'd been repeating a speech that came from someone else's heart. None of it felt original, the only time he truly enjoyed the piano was the night he'd managed to play so beautifully, so perfectly and so accurately. He didn't even have to try to master the piece, he'd never seen it before and automatically presented it with much flare and audacity.

His father followed behind him, speeding up the boys slow steps by pushing his back forward with one hand. They made their way faster and faster down to the piano. Something began to swell up in Souls stomach. Something he'd yet to feel.  
Irritating, yes, but he's felt this before and it went away quickly. Aggravation no, something more than that. It came from a part of him he'd yet known existed. It was the rebellious side in which he'd just discovered. He'd been unable to ignore it any further. He knew what it was.  
Hate.

"I hate the piano.", he muttered low enough for his father to hear.

In return, he received a slap in the back of the head, courtesy of his own father. The pain only frustrated him further, the hatred for the evil instrument grew far more than he'd expected. For the moment, he felt his blood actually boil. He shrugged it off, ignoring the pain in his head and soon taking yet another seat at the piano bench.

"Play.", his father commanded.

No words were spoken after, he looked at the difficult music sheet he knew he'd mess up. Failure, defeat, desperation. He frantically looked around the room, then up at the chandelier hanging above them. No matter how much he prayed, the fancy lights mounted onto the ceiling remained in tact. They were unlikely to fall off, crushing the piano, any time soon. Another feeling began to overwhelm him, to the point he thought he could actually feel his blood boiling. He moved his arm, turning the page three sheets over. He had no idea what he was doing, but he looked down at the sheet, gazing upon the familiar piece.

Within less than a second, he began to play. He failed to look at the sheet and paid no attention to what was written on it. He kept it there for comfort, gathering the formalities of what he'd once played so many years before. In an amazing stroke of luck, the piano displayed an intense, dark melody. Another key, and another, and another. He played vehemently, without hesitation. At one point he'd forgotten where he was, ignoring any trace of his father. It was as if the anger dwelling within him had suddenly jumped out of his body and into his hands, controlling every move he now made. He was no longer in control, moving his fingers passionately, gracefully, not even noticing his fathers hung open mouth. His face was lit with awe. Even Wes peered his head into the room to see what had just been playing, but was soon escorted out by a servant.

The tempo sped, Soul matching every bit of it. His mind was blank, filled with no other thoughts but that of him, and the piano. Every single cruel moment represented into his four minute piece. The final stroke came soon, he knew he'd need a way to slow his fingers. There was no way, no stopping him now, it felt as if he could go on forever without even trying. He wasn't even tired, a new part of him took over, releasing itself into the music. Even Soul was surprised when he'd felt so free, for once, loving every bit of the piano and the music that came out of it.  
He'd reached the end, and raised both of his hands in the air while the sound of the previous melody lingered. He slammed both hands down on the correct keys, causing a loud noise. He closed his eyes. A tension arose in which he'd been unfamiliar with all together. A loud noise followed the keys, in which the piano would definitely be unable to produce. This didn't sound like music, it was the sound of metal versus metal. Destruction, he opened his eyes, taking a deep breath.

The piano was in ruins.

He looked around to see his father dumbstruck with no words amounting from his mouth what-so-ever. He'd been defeated. Soul looked down at the piano in slight triumph, until he saw what had seemed to be so impossible.

The piano was broken, and the culprit was his left arm. As of today, he was a weapon.

_"Son.."_, his father stated in a low voice.

No response.

"_Soul Eater..._", he coughed, "Never in my entire life.."

He waited for the oncoming lecture.

"Have I ever been so _proud_ of you."

Soul nearly fell over.

"You're a weapon! You're not just a prodigy, but a weapon? How wonderful! The world couldn't ask for a father who's ever been as proud as I am!", his tone wasn't cruel, nor filled with disappointment, it was sincere. It might have been the first time, in a long time, if ever, he was proud of his youngest son.

"We'll begin your training first thing in the morning! Go get some rest now, go on!", he pushed his son back up the long steps and into his room once more. Some time when his anger had released its grip, his arm had turned back into that of a human. Soul only hoped, he'd be able to change it back again.

Another thought overwhelmed his mind. It sent a shock of happiness straight through his gut, up into the very depths of his soul. It gave him a reason to wake up the next morning. The piano had been completely demolished.  
Life as a weapon was more complicated than he'd thought it would be, but it was everything he'd ever hoped for. It was a change. There was another, much more promising, idea confined to the thought of being a weapon in which he couldn't quite see yet. He knew something was there, but it was hidden. His mind remained clouded and spirited to the fact he'd been able to turn into a weapon at all.  
The first thing he'd learned while training: It would be done in silence.

His father began to spend more and more time with him as he taught him how to trigger the weapon form. For now he'd only been able to comply with one arm, switching it back and fourth with ease. The other arm, however, was a tough one. It took roughly a week to master and even then he still preferred the left arm, as to the more difficult one, the right.

The boys eager father rambled on about so many things, the duties of a weapon, the school, the bond of a weapon and a Meister. The duties of a weapon had been hammered into his head many times, every day. No matter what, as a weapon, it was his duty to protect, and if necessary, die for his Meister.

The academy interested him the most. It was in a place far from here, known as Death City. The city sounded enchanting, as his father mesmerized him with tails of corrupted souls in which he'd have to defeat, and eat. The classes, the requirements, all of it seemed to catch his attention. The very thought of one day leaving this place and setting off on an unpredictable, uncharted life on his own stunned him. It pulled him into a trance, as he visualized his Meister His Meister would be amazingly talented. They would be strong, cunning, everything an "Evan" should be and more. Every night from then on he began to train more and more, until they'd reached the climax of the lesson.  
Transforming into a fully formed weapon.

Another thought occurred he had no idea what he was. He'd heard stories of transforming shuriken, guns, even gloves. He'd hope he'd be something amazing, something strong. Something guaranteed to win a fight no matter what.  
The process, was excrutiating. It often left him tired, and hungry. The hunger was odd, even after never ending practice on the piano he hadn't been so hungry, he'd even been able to go to bed with no dinner, and never complained.  
After eight, long hours of practice, he'd managed to finally transform. It was certain now, he was a scythe.

"Father, I can't move.", Soul was terrified, the feeling in his body had now been removed.

He was unsure how he'd managed to turn back into a human, after those brief seconds as a fully formed, powerful weapon. His body ached, he was missing something that even food couldn't help. This was much deeper than hunger, but he didn't know what it was. He couldn't place the feeling, it was unlike anything else.

"Ready for a new lesson son?"

"No."

"Nonsense, today you're going to learn something far more important than anything else i've taught you."

His attention was captured.

"Today, you're going to eat a _soul_."


	3. Soul Eaters Premonition

The day had been long, he'd already been training to his full extent, attempting every trick in the book he could possibly muster up in trying to master his weapon. He'd felt confident up until the point his father requested he'd turn into a full scythe, he thought it would be easier with one arm. His father persisted, and the boy had held his form for less than a minute when he'd been forcefully changed back into a human, nine year old boy. It was fairly difficult to move, every part of him seemed sewn into the ground. Then his father had the audacity to bring up an even more disturbing matter, in a matter of time he'd be required to eat an actual soul.

"Father I don't wanna eat a soul.", he pleaded, still unable to move.

"Nonsense, I'm sure you'll love them, besides if you want to get the feeling back in your body you have to. I requested a soul to be delivered exclusively from the DWMA, it should be here soon.", he ignored the twitching in the small boys fingers.

"But I can't move how can I eat right now.", he began to panic, as the feeling in his hands began to incinerate.

"I'll show you. Stay put though, the delivery hasn't arrived yet and you need your rest.", he looked down at Soul, as if he had a choice.

Soul remained quiet, staring at the grass below him. It felt like forever while waiting for the sound of his fathers footsteps to return. He wasn't too crazy about eating a real life soul, his father hadn't explained to him why he'd be required to do that, but at this point anything was better than being unwillingly planted into the ground. Almost thirty minutes passed by before he heard footsteps. They weren't his father, they belonged to the second eldest _man of the house hold_, Wes.

"What are you doing down there little brother?", he asked, stepping in front of his brothers pale face.

"I can't tell you.", he so desperately wanted to tell Wes that he was a weapon, maybe he'd know what to do in this situation, but he'd been forbidden. It would be a required secret until further notice.

"But i'm your big brother, surely you can tell me can't you?", he had a very polite voice, which in turn was exceedingly difficult to turn away.

"_Go away_ i'm not telling.", his voice was now faint, and his throat dry. He would kill for something to eat.

"Soul, you can tell me anything, and pick yourself up, what are you doing down there anyway?"

There was no time to respond, his voice had been followed by heavier footsteps, which they could both identify as , holding a small box.

"Wes, what are you doing in here? Go back inside until we're ready to talk to you."

"Yes Father.", Said a defeated Wes, as he ran back up to the mansion.

He waited until his eldest son was out of view, then knelt down and set the small box on the ground next to Soul. Soul in turn, did his best to turn his head in an attempt to look at the box. He still couldn't move, it became far too difficult to try.

"Now, this is a soul.", from the box, he pulled out a red, circular shaped light. It looked smaller than he'd imagined, but he still couldn't understand why he'd be required to eat it. It looked nothing like food, not even in the slightest.

"Open wide.", he said, holding it closer to the boys face, which was now a ghostly white.  
He did as he commanded, opening his mouth as wide as he could think possible. The boys father place the tip of the soul into his mouth, which he chewed a little bit before swallowing. He still had his baby teeth, and they weren't very useful when eating souls, he'd ended up swallowing most of it whole.  
It was the best thing he'd ever tasted before in his life.

The taste couldn't compare to any fancy dish he'd been served or any fancy restaurant he'd eaten at. In fact, he'd completely forgotten his place on the ground, as the soul delivered an intense, satisfying feeling down his throat. He then realized it didn't have a particular taste, the way it slithered down his throat, the texture and all that went with it, was pleasure enough.

He felt like the strongest man alive, he sprouted up as the feeling came back to his arms and legs, and the color returned to his face. He cheered, ready as ever to eat another.

"Now now son, calm down, there are some things you need to know while eating a soul.", his father began, "For example, what distinguishes you from the _evil_ ones. You're a weapon, and you fight the corrupted humans, devouring whats left of them and in turn getting stronger.", the way he described it made the idea sound rather evil itself.

"Why is that soul red?", a curious Soul asked.

"This is the soul that belonged to a corrupted human, a human who ate another humans soul. Instead of getting stronger, it drove him to madness which in turn got his soul taken away from him. You aren't going to let that happen, are you son?"

"No Father.", he managed in his smallest voice, as he reluctantly thought of the life that human once lived.

"Good, now let's keep practicing.", he finished.

As the training became more intense with each step he took further into becoming a weapon, the more he noticed a change developing slowly in his father. There was a change in him that he couldn't quite place, but it was clearly there and something about it didn't sit well. He no longer paid any attention, if he ever had at all, to his practice with the piano. The days he spent outside training in secrecy with his father only amounted to seeing less and less of his piano teacher, which he now knew went by the name of _"Mr. Davidson."_.

A few times Wes or his mother would come outside only to be sent away by his father. Nobody ever questioned what they did while out, the only change they seemed to notice was the bond between Soul and his Father. As Soul began to notice the change affect him rapidly the less he wanted to be around his father. The man had a strange atmosphere added to him now, something unpleasant and uninviting. Most of the time he shrugged it off, but it the feeling seemed to linger, as if stuck in the air somehow. The more open his father was, the more distant Soul became. Often times he'd ramble on about nothing, or it was something Soul couldn't understand. The word _"prodigy"_ was thrown around all too often, even if he hadn't played the piano in a while. It was still being repaired, he couldn't understand why his father was so proud of him. He'd never shown a sign of actually caring before he'd found out he was a weapon.

The charade didn't last long, the questions soon piled up. One day while eating dinner together, for the first time in a long time, the question was asked.

"Why hasn't Soul been practicing?", his mother asked.

His father nearly spit out his food, "The piano has been temporarily damaged, we're awaiting short repairs."

"Then what have you and the boy been doing together? You seem to be spending more time with each other than usual.", the name _the boy_ made Soul cringe a little, it was as if a his own name had been shredded and replaced with something she found more _suitable_. He didn't understand.

"Well since the boy is growing older by the minute, I decided it would be a good time to start working on his muscles.", his father lied, "After all Evans men are quite the catch. Isn't that right, Wes?"

Wes nodded, proceeding to take a sip of his water. The question seemed off, as if it was missing a profound side of sincerity.

"Anyway, there's nothing wrong with taking my son out for some exercise is there?", he proudly continued, never dropping the act.

"Of course not, but what kind of exercise have you been doing? I haven't seen any improvement in him.", his mother saw through the act, but the look her husband gave warned her not to go further into it. It was a look she'd yet to see before.

"Well anyway, let's drop the subject I'm sure you're both having fun. Now, Wes go continue your practice.", she shooed everybody else out of the dining room, "_Except_ you, Soul Eater, come here.".

He stayed behind as requested. She caught him by the shoulders, he turned around to meet her large face.

"Soul Eater, is he bothering you?", she looked deep into his eyes, as if she'd know if he was lying.

"No.", he lied.

"Well can you honestly tell me what you were doing outside? Also, I would like to know how the piano had been destroyed so easily, it looks as if it had taken a mighty blow from the legendary sword Excalibur himself. Any explanations?"

"Sorry Mother I don't know.", he lied once more.

"Soul Eater, I want you to stay in your room tomorrow. You've been spending far too much time with your father, you won't give me a clear explanation, and you're neglecting your studies. _Are we clear?_", she had an un-amused tone. He was certain that somehow, she'd known he was lying through his teeth.

"Yes Mother.", he replied in defeat, shamefully walking to his room.

* * *

The next morning he awoke to his fathers face in the doorway. He was standing there in hopes to get an early start on training. Soul explained what had happened, and how mother hadn't allowed him to go outside that day but he persisted.

"_Soul Eater Evans,_ march yourself downstairs and outside, _immediately_. I'll have no more excuses, today is the follow-up on one of your most important lessons.", he commanded, with a strange tone in his voice.

He nodded, reluctantly following his father outside, walking carefully so he wouldn't wake his mother up. Once again they reached the same grassy area, just in reach of the forest they had been training in for the past few weeks.

"Today, we're going to make your soul stronger.", his father said, pointing to a clear spot in the forest, "This time we're going to harness the strength in your soul and put it into the weapon.", he had an unpromising tone accompanied by a disturbing smile that was all together new for Soul.

"Okay.", he replied, standing in the center of a parted grassy opening.

"Alright, now to start this lesson we'll need a soul.", he rubbed his hands together, eager to get started.

Soul licked his lips at the thought of devouring another delicious soul.

"Unfortunately, the DWMA has refused to send us another soul, they say if they want us to continue with your training you'll be required to study at the academy in Death City.", the disappointment was followed by an overwhelming thought.

Training, at an actual school. His dream of leaving his aggravating life-style behind, finally realized.

"So i'm gonna train there?!", he jumped up with a wide grin on his face.

"Absolutely _not_."

The cheering ceased.

"I laughed when they said I'd be unable to create a potential death scythe on my own, they tried filling my head with utter nonsense such as _"the boy will need a Meister"_. How ridiculous, you won't be a Meister. Haven't you heard of the death scythe who trained himself without a Meister He was only thirteen years old! So I figured if we want to make you stronger, we'll have to resort to extreme measures.", he finished with yet another ridiculous smile plastered onto his face.

Soul so badly wanted to run, his dream had just been crushed right in front of him. Another goal set by somebody else placed on the table, another goal in which he'd fail and disappoint his parents. Yet another disappointment, soon amounting to another repetitious state of mind in which he'd trap himself, encased, like a prisoner in his own home.  
His thoughts were interrupted by his father, rambling on again.

"Now, another rule about eating souls, never eat a human soul unless it's corrupted. For example, the Kishin soul I gave you. That one was red, and it was a Kishin egg, in turn if left open in the real world would sprout into a diabolical monster, destroying everything in it's path. A human soul, however, is completely innocent, but it has nearly ten times the amount of power given to you in the Kishin soul. Could you imagine, being ten times stronger than how you felt before? The minute you ate that soul you felt the rush didn't you?", the man began to poke the small boys chest.  
He nodded reluctantly, unsure where he was going with his long, meaningless speech.

"Well, I have a lovely surprise for you.", he cooed.

"James, come over here will you?", he called out, to the nearby servant that had been awaiting orders.

"Yes Sir.", the servant now walked over obediently.

Soul Eater looked up at the two men who had seemed to nod at each other, then revert their attention back onto the small boy, who was wildly confused by this lesson.

"_Kill_ the boy.", his father commanded.

The entire world seemed to plunge into darkness as this was said, he knew he wouldn't like this lesson and now he knew why.

The servant nodded, who now appeared to be wielding a large piece of medal. It was an overly sharpened machete there was no doubt about it, it was real. There had unfortunately been no chance of a fake, as it split the leaves as they surfaced near the blade.  
He lunged, attacking the ground directly next to where Soul had been sitting. In turn, he panicked and proceeded to run away. He'd made it into an unknown part of the forest, before followed by the sound of footsteps and a sharp, medal sound crushing the ground below him.  
"Boy, come back here and fight me.", the man called, lacking any sign of hesitation.

"Go away!", Soul commanded, feeling a familiar rush in his veins. Anger, hatred, irritation, all of it piling up into one blood vessel which in turn spread like a plague throughout his body.

"Boy if you don't fight me I'll just have to kill you."

He sat down, hidden underneath the large trunk of a tree. There was no chance the far too obedient servant would find him. Once again he was wrong, the entire tree trunk split in half along with a small tip of his white hair. He ducked, just in time escaping the wrath of the blood thirsty blade. The man wasn't eager to give up, which only made Soul wonder how much was in store for him if he'd been successful on his request, of killing the boy.

Soul ran frantically around the forest, trying to find his dad, his mother, anybody, in hopes of safety. He saw an opening, leading away from the forest and followed it, using every bit of strength in his body to break into a fast run.

_**SLICE!**_

He'd failed to notice the man awaiting his presence, concealed so well in the shadows underneath a large oak tree. All it took was the sound of his footsteps, and he'd had the blade ready. Soul Eaters small, orange shirt had been suffered. Both sleeves and the left side of his stomach was split, covered in blood from the small wounds given to him.

He felt another surge of exhilaration A familiar feeling, he'd felt all too often. Every minute he stayed put, obeying his maniacal fathers orders, was a minute closer he'd become to giving into his hatred and fury. This time, there was no exception, if he'd wished to stay alive he'd have to do the unthinkable.

"Fight me, and I won't eat your soul. Give me everything you've got you spoiled brat! Fight me!", his voice grew louder.

He had no words, the pain had been completely faded, along with his every sense of reason. Without noticing his left arm had been replaced with that of the curved blade of a scythe. The purity of his red, crimson eyes had been replaced with something dark and sinister, bloodshot with the feeling of pain, and malice.  
His very memory began to fail him, he'd soon forgotten who the man was all together, with only one thing on his mind.

The taste of a precious soul.

"Who are you. Are you the same little brat from a minute ago? Why aren't you running?", the overly confident servant demanded.

"Stop talking.", Soul commanded, in a much darker tone than intended.

"What are you going to do. I'm warning you if you touch me so help me I will end your miserable,", those were his last words.

A knife had been placed in the back of his heart, as his remains dissolved, leaving nothing behind but a lingering blue soul.

"Son, you've made me proud.", a familiar voice said.

He looked up, relieving himself of his hatred for the man, replaced with a new one. His father.

"_Now_, I want you to do something for me."

"Yes Father.", he said in his previously blank voice, as his arm had changed once again into that of a humans.

"Do you see this soul?", he now held the attackers blue lit soul.

"Yes.", he nodded.

"I want you to do something for me, now this is very important. This is the final part of your lesson, do you understand?"

He nodded in return, "What would you like me to do father.

"Soul Eater,", he paused,

"I want you to eat this soul."


	4. The Change

The world seemed to collapse underneath his very feet. He no longer saw the man he once knew as his father, for a moment he saw a stranger in which he'd had no relations. The strange man who now took his fathers place stepped closer, holding the human soul in the palm of his hand. The rumors of the madness that came with the strength of a human soul was too horrific to believe. He wanted to get stronger, but in no means did he at all want to become a Kishin.

"_Soul Eater_, did you hear me?", the man spoke.

"Father..I don't want to eat the soul.", he murmured.

"Now now, you must understand you're only scared because this is new to you. I'm only doing what's best for you."

"No Father, I won't eat the soul! I don't want to become a _monster!_", his voice grew louder as he protested.

"Don't raise your voice at me boy, you do want to become stronger don't you?"

"Yes but not this way. This is wrong!"

"_Enough_ of this, I won't listen to anymore of your impudent whining, now do it. Eat this soul.", he now held the blue soul up to the young boys face.

"No!", he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"You don't have a _choice_ anymore, you _will_ learn to_ listen_ to your father."

The mans face burned with a reddish glow, the madness in his eyes intensified. Souls mind had been filled to the brim with fear as his father forcefully grabbed his face, holding his mouth open. His father shoved the soul inside and after a few seconds he was forced to chew, and swallow.

This soul tasted nothing like the last, it had a strange affect. His thoughts had been cleared and his body purified as he ate the previous, corrupted soul. This soul showed no sign of purification, it clouded his mind and put him into an unfamiliar state of mind. Then he felt it, the sharp pain in his mouth.

A red glow had shot through his mouth, out of his throat as he'd swallowed. The power surged through him, as the very little amount of madness he held within him rapidly increased by the second. The boy stared up at the sky, feeling the changes flowing through his body, rushing into his blood stream. He'd never felt so powerful before in his life, yet at the same time he'd never been more terrified.

Not a moment sooner, he passed out.

It was sometime nearing midnight before someone thought to look for him. His father had gone inside, and reassured the boy was safe and being carefully looked over. Nothing could be further from the truth, as Soul had just gone through one of the most dramatic changes in his life time, in which he was unable to understand. The trauma of having his father betray him, and then force him to eat a human soul was too much to handle. Even after regaining partial consciousness he refused to go back home and face the man. Instead he decided to lay out in the forest, and sit there until he absolutely had to go back.

"_Soul?_ Is that you?", said a familiar voice.

"Go away.", he commanded, looking up at his older brother.

"What have you been doing out here? Why are you holding your mouth?", he looked down at Soul, who had been sitting on the floor, covering his face with both hands.

"It hurts."

"Why does it hurt?"

"I dunno."

"Move your hands Soul."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It hurts too much.", he protested.

Ignoring him, Wes gingerly grabbed both of his hands, parting them away from his face.

In place of his formerly beautiful baby teeth, lay in front of him a brand new pair of sharp teeth lining his jaw. The sight was too much to bare as Wes took a few steps back, nearly tripping over a fallen branch. It was then he noticed the damage that had been done to the forest, due to the previous fight. Trees were chopped down, plants ripped to shreds, and now his brother looked inhuman.

"Soul Eater..what happened to your teeth?", asked a terrified Wes.

"I dunno they just hurt."

"They're..sharp.", he managed a slightly better look at his teeth, "No matter, let's get you inside you've been out here far too long.", he lifted the boy onto his feet, walking him back into the house, where it'd only be a matter of time before having to explain what happened to his family.

Once inside, Wes quickly shut the door and guided Soul into the bathroom, lifting him onto the sink facing the mirror.

"Soul, take a look at your teeth.", he pointed at the mirror.

Soul did his best to look up at the mirror, opening his mouth and seeing for himself what had replaced his former pearly whites. Now residing within his mouth lay a sharp pair of teeth lining his jaws. He'd felt the change back when he'd eaten the soul, and now it was certain.

"_Soul Eater_, where did you get these wounds?", Wes asked calmly, pointing to the bloody wounds staining his shirt.

"I fell down allot.", he lied.

"You don't have to lie to me. Was it Father, did he hurt you?", he asked, slightly less calm.

"No, I can't tell you.", he mumbled in response, desperately wanting to tell him.

"Soul, if you don't tell me I will have to tell mother."

"No! I'll tell you later! Leave me alone!", he raised his voice as he protested the threat.

"Fine, tell me whenever you're ready. I'll be around when you're ready to talk.", he now bandaged his little brothers wounds, cleansing them with baby wipes.

Soul remained silent. He knew it wouldn't be soon, he wondered if he'd ever be able to tell his brother at all. A part of him couldn't believe it had happened, it all felt too wrong. Even after the job had been done the memory will forever remain, trapped within his now newly sharp pair of teeth. It was difficult to look in the mirror, almost scary. Another part of him knew he'd become stronger, and soon he'd become even more powerful than before. There was a new energy surfacing within him, in which he'd yet to understand. It was only a matter of time before he'd most likely have to learn.

After his brother finished tending to his wounds, little Soul Eater jumped off of the kitchen sink, heading to his room for a well deserved nap.

The morning brought surprising news. It excited him, yet at the same time frightened him to his very core. One of the servants had come into his room, alerting him that plans had been made where as he'd be performing one of his songs on the piano at the party later this month, to celebrate his eleventh birthday. This was his first time performing for other people, he only hoped they'd like it. One part of him was hysterical over the fact people would finally witness his performance, and maybe even think better of him than Wes, just for once. The other part of him knew people wouldn't enjoy his music, they'd tune it out and fail to listen to it, just as his parents had often done. They'd also tune their ears into every little mistake, catching every single slip up he knew he was bound to make and proceed to comparing it to the amazing tunes that amounted from his brothers violin.

He immediately began to practice, for once eager to play the piano. It was almost two o'clock before the doorbell rang inviting an unwanted guest into the house. His father, he prodded Soul to come outside and train with him once more. There was no possible way he'd want to go with him, especially after the piano just being fixed. It would be a waste of time, and if he had gone out he'd only begin to pester his father over sending him to the academy for real training. In the mean time, he ignored the door, hoping the stupid man would go away.

"I'll get it!", a maid sang, answering the door.

"Ah, hello Nancy. Is my son around?", he asked, unable to see Soul in the piano room through the closed door.

"He's in the piano room, though he'd requested he wouldn't be disturbed today."

"_Nonsense!_ A boy always has time for his father, correct?!"

"Uh,", she stuttered, "Why of course sir I'll get him for you.", she reluctantly made her way over to the grand doors of the piano room, stepping inside to see Soul buried in sheet paper. A billion used sheet papers had been thrown around the room, some crumpled up, some tossed in the trash, and some were spread out below his feet. The boy himself had taken the defensive, pretending to lay asleep on top of the piano bench.

"Oh my! He looks exhausted.", she gasped, looking around the messy room.

"Well that's good, "_exercising_" like that will make him even stronger.", his father replied, gingerly picking the boy up and carrying him outside into the usual spot.

_"Leave me alone!"_, Soul commanded in his head, hesitating to shout at his father.

"Now Soul, wake up.", he shook the boy, putting him on the ground.

Keeping up the act he rubbed his eyes and looked up seemingly sleepily at his father, letting out a fake yawn. It was working as his father pat his head, laughing a bit as he gave into the vague act.

"Training while you're tired like this is exactly what a boy like you needs! You wan't to become stronger again don't you?", he pressed the thought of training again.

"Actually, Father, I want to train at the academy."

Silence.

"Nonsense boy, there's nothing they can show you there that I can't show you here. In fact, why would you want to waste your time there anyway? It's nothing but a punch of sick, poor people fighting for a better life. You however, you have money! You're an _Evan_ for heavens sake! You have everything you could ever possibly need right here."

"What about a _Meister?_", he asked, slightly shaking.

"_Who cares!_ You don't need a Meister, you'll train yourself. It's not impossible, Justin Law did it! He's a legend! Just think, my son, a musical prodigy and an excellent, self trained Death Scythe! Make me proud boy!", he patted his son on the back, as the boy silently flinched at the familiar words.

"I really don't want to train myself, I was looking forward to having a Meister actually."

Silence again.

"_What are you saying?_ Don't you want to be a legend! You don't get famous that way, besides, who would your Meister be, the only people we can entrust a weapon like you with, is someone of _high _caliber Not one of those poor students at the academy, they'll be no good for you.", he slightly raised his voice, looking down at the boy.

"But, I _really_ want to go! I don't want to train here Father!"

"Well you _can't_, you're a _monster_ now remember! You ate a _human_ soul, if you set foot in the academy they'll take your soul! Do you understand?!", he snapped, glaring at the boys sharp teeth.

"Yes Father.", he sighed, shuttering at the word _"Monster"_.

"Now, let's get started."

The training proceeded at its usual pace, this time without any sudden attacks. It was the usual physical exercise No one interrupted, nobody died, nobody was forced to eat a human soul. Every step he took within the damaged forest only expanded the small hate he now had for his father. A part of him wanted to believe it wasn't true, he wanted to believe he could establish a normal relationship with his family, just as Wes had done. Wes was the favorite child, even if they didn't admit it they paid far more attention to him, and praised him much more often.

The day ended at its usual time, carrying out the same way the next day. It went on for about a week or so, with Soul piling a composition of music notes onto sheet paper, spreading and expanding throughout the piano room little by little each day, filled with more rejected, tampered with songs, followed by the training he'd always be forced to take part in with his father. The routine never changed, until the end of the month when he'd finally be asked to perform at the party. He'd never practiced so hard on his own in his life, he was dead set on giving an amazing performance at the party, just as his brother would if it was his own.

The night of the party arrived faster than expected.

"Soul Eater, get dressed in your best outfit the guests will arrive soon!", his mother called, frantically jumping around the house.

"Oh my! What is this!", she screamed, staring down at the disarray of used music sheets burying the piano room.

She called a few servants in to clean up the mess, and sent Soul off to his room to change. He'd gotten dressed in a full black and white tuxedo and tie, allowing a nearby servant to help him pick it out. In other words, he sat on his bed staring into space until somebody came by, laying out a suit and tie on his bed.

"Make me proud tonight little brother.", said Wes as he peered into Souls bedroom door.

He flashed a wide, toothy grin. This was his first time performing, and his brother believed in him. For once he felt unstoppable, on top of the world. This would be his night, the night he wouldn't be compared to his brother. The night he'd prove he was worthy of the Evans family.

It's eight o'clock at night. The guests have arrived, they've mingled, they've snacked, they've danced. Now it was time, the endless conversations, the polite and positive attitude he'd been forced to display the entire night would finally pay off. He grinned, his teeth shocking some people, as he took a seat at the piano. The music he'd composed was something he knew he'd play well. It was a four minute piece, in which was a bit darker, and more eerie than others. It wasn't like the one he'd payed when he was angry, this one came from the conscious part of him. This part was more reluctant about the notes he'd sewn together, fitting every piece twice making absolutely sure he'd impress his audience.

The welcoming clap ended, it was time to begin.

He grinned once more as he began the piece, slamming two hands on ten keys on the piano. Five fingers, two sides of the keyboard. The note it started off with was dark, it screamed. The next melody following up was one of a brighter tempo, with an eerie background. He was sure he'd nailed it. The audience was silent, if some were talking he hadn't been able to notice, he was lost in his play. Halfway through the song he was sweating, paying no attention to anything else as the carefully composed melody flowed through his fingertips, through the piano, into the air sweeping the ears of the guests who'd stood there on that night, and watched as he performed so energetically. There was no true exact explanation for the enticing, enchanting dark melody that came from the piano. It was carefully crafted, sewn throughout his soul. He was positive it would blow the audience away. He recognized the final melodies, ending his dark, glorious piece.

He listened carefully as chatter rang throughout the audience.

_"Wow.."_

_"Amazingly.."_

_"Well written?"_

_"Perhaps."_

_"He's the Evans youngest, correct?"_

_"The piece was a little dark, wasn't it?"_

_"It was definitely something."_

_"Has Wes ever played like that?"_

_"Definitely not."_

_"It would've been great if Wes were here."_

His heart began to shatter as Wes became the hot topic, causing endless chatter throughout the party thrown for him, even without him making a single appearance. He'd been unable to even show up that night, yet he was still favored more than Soul somehow.

_"I know, I know. It's a shame."_

_"What did you think of the boy?"_

_"He's nothing like Wes."_

_"Of course not, his play is much too rusty."_

_"Indeed, now if only."_

_"If only what?"_

His ears were practically bleeding, his soul couldn't take much more of this. He prayed they wouldn't say what he'd dreaded his entire life.

_"If only he could be more like Wes."_


	5. Disappointment

If there was a reason to keep playing the piano, he couldn't see it. His motivation and pure love for the instrument had been ripped away. He'd found ways of pouring his heart and soul into the music, relieving every tension in his body, music was freedom. Just like that, his music had been laughed at, criticized ridiculed. It was disturbing, the Evans family stood there laughing, gawking, pointing. The mention of Wes ripped him apart. Of course Wed had never personally done anything to Soul, he'd been more of an asset than anything, but god why did he have to live in his shadow.

The never ending shadow cast over him that seemed to blur the vision of the entire world. When they looked down on Soul, they only saw a boy who'd never be as great as Wes. Wes was a legend, the golden child, the genius Soul was none of that, in fact it became easier to believe that the only reason people had agreed to show up was for the slim chance of meeting Wes, or hearing him play. No, they came because they thought Soul would be a prodigy, exactly, no, more profound than Wes. He'd let them down, disappointing everybody in the room as they carelessly stuck pins and needles into his already beaten heart. What more did they have to gain by comparing him to such unimaginable standards, he felt as if he'd been compared to god.

There was no reason to practice anymore, nobody would listen. Surely his mother wouldn't be too hard on him, after all the piano had been broken for a while, he'd been training more than anything. No, he knew his mother and she'd accept no kind of excuses. The only explanation he could muster was that of he'd gotten a little _"rusty"_. Surely she'd never buy that, in fact he wasn't even sure if she'd cared to hear him play. Would she ask him to perform again, so that she may judge his music herself, or would she simply go by the rumors extended from the other, more worthy Evans men.

After the recital, he only half pretended his recital had worn him out. He didn't have to completely pretend, the four minute piece and the reviews following were enough to drop a fifty pound weight on the boys legs, but he'd be able to stay up a little longer if necessary. He told the maid, Nancy, who in turn alerted his mother, who requested his presence in the black-room. He'd never been in the black-room before, it'd been strictly off limits to everyone else in the house-hold. The only other person, besides his mother, who'd been permitted there was his father. He had no idea what it was like, he imagined it would be similar to the rest of the house.

He was wrong.

The black room was quaint calm, its only inhabitants were two black chairs, an end table, a few dim lights and a record player. The record player emitted a low, jazz tune in which he'd never heard before. It seemed to slightly skip, being a bit older than most modern technology. He was curious as to why she had a record player in the first place.

"Mother?", he peered his head in from the doorway.

"Soul Eater, come in.", she sat in one of the black chairs, patting the seat of the other chair, directing him to sit down.

"What did you need Mother?", he did as requested, trying to stay on his very best behavior, knowing very well if she'd called him to the black room it was either extravagant news, or she brought terribly bad tidings.

"What's this I hear about you being a _weapon?_"

He froze. The secret had been leaked, could Wes have found out? Could she have broken Father into telling her? Both?

"I dunno.", he replied, slumping his shoulders in his attempt to shrug.

"Sit up straight when you're speaking to me and tell me what's going on. What have you and your father been doing outside for so long now, and what's wrong with your _teeth_. There's more to it than your adult teeth growing in, nobody in the Evans family has ever had such jagged, eye soars implanted in their mouths. Now, _explain_.", she commanded in a harsh tone.

"I don't know, Father says he wants to make me stronger. I don't know anything about being a weapon.", he lied.

"I want you to stop whatever you're doing with your father. I don't care what it is, just stop it. From now on you'll spend five straight hours on your piano each day, followed by your studying. That's it, nothing more and nothing less. Do you understand me Soul Eater?", she snapped.

"Stop training?", he feared the everyday life of never ending practice and work, slowly creeping back onto his everyday lifestyle.

The endless routine, it would come back to him. Being a weapon was the closest he'd ever felt to being alive. The punishment, the criticism the comparisons. It would never end, he needed an escape, desperately.

"Yes Soul Eater, stop training. I don't want you doing it anymore, and this about being a weapon, enough. As far as I'm concerned you're not a weapon and _nobody_ will ever find out. We don't tell Wes about this, do you understand me?", she demanded in a much darker tone.

"But Mother,", he hesitated, watching as she leaned back in her chair, "I _like_ being a weapon.".

_**SMACK!**_

Just like that, she'd delivered a hard blow to the face with the back of her hand. It felt much worse than the first time, the small penalty he'd received for disgracing the name of the piano. This one ran deeper than pain, it felt as if it'd left a scar. A permanent mark, lingering on his soul.

"Soul Eater, you're lucky you're an Evan. Quite honestly you're not worthy, nor are you of being a pianist, your brother picked up the concept of his instrument much quicker, and he'd pick up the piano in an instant if he'd wanted to. I don't want to look at you right now, leave this room. Get as far away from me as you can, and stay put until you're told otherwise.", she maintained her dark voice, which no longer showcased praise or any sign of bliss, instead it showcased malice, her intent to harm.

He knew she was holding herself back, and that he'd been lucky all he received is a simple slap on the face. However, the bond between him and his parents slowly faded a little more every day. First, his father and his mother, constantly pushing him to new heights before he could even stand up to walk. Second, his father exceeding the limit in which a normal human should surpass, craving madness and trying to enforce the same feeling into his own son. Third, his mother expected him to be just like Wes, he was unworthy of being called an Evan. Finally, he had been familiarized with the feeling of true, purified hatred.

Obeying her final command, he marched to his room, locking the door for the night as he lay on his bed. Small tears began to formulate from his eyes, breaching the surface of his skin, trailing down his small face. A part of him told him not to cry, and that crying wasn't the solution. The other told him he had no other choice. He didn't, he remained just like that for the rest of the night, until his tears had lulled him to sleep.

The next morning, just as he feared, the routine had continued. He'd been immediately sent downstairs to practice his work on the piano, and four hours later he'd been dismissed to his home schooling and studying. After that there were only a few hours left in the day, two. It wasn't like he'd wanted to do anything in his free time, there was nothing he could do. A part of him wanted to train, longing that he'd be permitted to use his weapon form once more. He even wished for another surprise attack, anything to make him jump. No, nothing like that happened. His father had been gone for the day, and even if he had been there had was no longer permitted to train with him. There was no point in caring anymore.

After treading up and down the long staircase four or five times, in his lame attempt of suppressing boredom, a nearby servant had called to him.

"Soul Eater, your mother wanted a message passed along to you.", she called.

He sat down on one step, slumping, staring up at her. He didn't care about anything she had to say, or the message she passed along with her, or anything his mother had to tell him. He was bored.

"Your aunt will be visiting next weekend and once here you'll be permitted to play with her son, who is only two years older than you. His name is Dimitri. She says while he's here she wants you to be on your absolute _best_ behavior.", she finished, realizing he'd been paying very little attention to her what-so-ever.

"Soul Eater? Are you listening?", she asked.

"I heard you.", he stated, ignoring her gasp of disbelief, and turning his attention back to the stairs.

He assumed she'd run off and tell Mrs. Evans of what had happened, or of how rude the boy had been. Something along those lines, in which in turn he'd receive a punishment, something like a slap, or extra practice, or no dinner. It was all the same, it'd all been done before and frankly he didn't care either way. There was no point in caring really, though he did somewhat look forward to contact with another person. Even if it was another family member, he could only hope it wouldn't be someone who would fall similar to his mother or father. He kept the small hopeful thought in the back of his mind, allowing it enough strength to get him through the next week. Surprisingly enough, the week seemed to fly by.

Before he knew it, there was a knock at the two grand doors at the entrance, and a maid rushing to answer it. It was Nancy, to most helpful maid he'd ever seen in his life. She opened the door and slightly bowed, gradually letting the family members enter the house-hold. The first man to enter was a tall, tan man wearing a brown suit. He had a sort of buzz cut styled head, which wasn't at all similar to his dads, who grew out thick and uncontrollably. The next to enter was that of a tall, skinny woman who resembled his mother. She looked absolutely radiant there was no doubt she was an Evan as she showed no hesitation when spoiling herself. The last to enter was a boy, who was only just a bit bigger than him, who buried his head with his hoodie and drowned his surroundings with the music emitting from his headphones. He walked in so lazily, it was hard to tell if he was really an Evans. His hands had been carelessly thrown into his pockets, as he lagged behind the gathering crowd of re-united family members, chattering away.

Something about the boys carefree attitude was admirable. He didn't even seem to notice his family, nor paid any attention as to whether or not someone was speaking to him. Either way he seemed like he could care less, not at all phased by the strange looks passed around the room.

"Hello, Rosalie have you met my son?", the woman, he assumed his aunt, asked his mother as she guided the boy forward with one hand, somewhat irritated by his distance. He was sure he'd never seen her at any of the family reunions, so it was hard to determine.

"I don't believe I have. I've heard great things though, what's his name again?", she cooed, as if she'd forgotten.

"This is my talented son, Dimitri. He's thirteen, and I heard you have two lovely boys as well? May I meet them?", they began to chatter away, exchanging stories of each others children and family matters, until he noticed his mother calling him over towards the family.

Wes had been there too, waiting patiently for his mother to finish the conversation, just like the obedient loyal child he was. Soul had been called as well, almost surprised she'd still considered him one of her sons.

"This is my oldest boy, Wes, he's a very talented musician. An absolutely brilliant violinist.", she began, "And this,", she pointed to Soul, "is my youngest boy Soul, he dabbles in the piano. First of the family, can you imagine?", she seemed to trail off as she finished her plainly brief description.

"Soul,", she began again, looking down at him, "Why don't you go play with Dimitri, while we do some catching up.", she pushed him forward, in the direction of the other boy who stood absolutely lifelessly in the corner of the room, paying no attention to the family what-so-ever.

He nodded, as a servant escorted him outside. A minute or so passed, he'd remained outside alone. The door creaked open, followed by some struggling, following by low cursing, then followed by the final push of a teenage boy out the door. He dusted himself off and muttered something under his breath.

"So_ uncool._", he chided, slipping off the front porch.

"Hi.", Soul said blankly.

"_Eh?_ Who are you?", he asked in confusion of the small boy who now stood before him.

It was plain to see he'd been paying, little to absolutely no attention to the previous introductions.

"Soul Eater Evans, who are you.", he asked in return.

"Dimitri. I've been told I have to play with you or something."

"I don't care, there's nothing to do anyway."

"Well then you won't have a problem if I lay low out here for a while, right squirt?"

"I guess."

The boys laid back attitude made him a bit more intimidating. Though talking to him wasn't that hard, he wasn't willing to push an entire conversation. The boy seemed too interested in his music to care about anything else, which was plain to see by the way he fumbled with his tangled headphones.

"You like music squirt?", he asked, noticing the boy staring in amusement at the device.

"Yeah.", he confessed, though the only real music he knew was that which was played around the house.

"What kind?"

"Whatever's played around the house I guess."

"So it's just that classical, jazz junk right?", he made a face as if he was surprised by his answer.

The only music he truly listened to, was that which came off of the sound of his piano. The rest didn't matter, and he couldn't exactly place whether or not his music was jazz, classical, or anything else. It was unfamiliar to him, as he was with the other genres.

"Well whatever kid,", Dimitri sighed in response to Souls low shrug in defeat, "listen to _this_.", he placed the headphones over the boys small head, slipping them over his ears as he pressed play on the small device he held in his hands.

A sound erupted from the headphones, sparking caution in Souls ears. The tune, the lyrics, something he'd never heard before. It was that of hard punk, heavy metal, various forms of rock and scream. Something about it was enticing, he found himself enjoying the dark melodies flowing through his head. In a way they reflected the emotions he'd been to afraid to relief. It was as if someone else, carried his burdens for the time being.

"What do you think kid?", he finally asked, taking his headphones off of the boys shoulders.

"I liked it."

"Really?", he looked surprised, "I would've sworn I'd gross you out with my music. That was punk, it's different from the music you listen to. This music is cool. Classical, jazz, stuff like that isn't cool, alright?"

"_Cool?_"

"You've_ got_ to be kidding me kid.", he sighed, "Cool is a better way of saying you like something, without actually saying you like it. Got it?"

He nodded to his teacher.

"Cool."


	6. Changing

Dimitri was an interesting person. Everything he did seemed to inspire Soul. The remainder of the day spent with his visiting relatives was filled with music, not like the chained tone of his piano, the freedom of the music released from his electronic device. Soul later found out that what he'd been using was an "_mp-3_". His mother never told him about any of these things, the only music she cared about was that which was played around the house. Classical and jazz, was all he'd ever known.

"Alright kid, I've got one last thing to show you.", said Dimitri, walking up the stairs with both hands in his pockets.

"What is it?", Soul asked, trying to perform everything he'd shown him that day.

"How to dress. You can't walk around in a tuxedo your entire life, that's not _cool_.", he said as he pushed through the doorway, into Souls room.

"That's all I have though. That and pajamas but Mother says I shouldn't wear those unless it's night time, it's rude.", he replied, feeling much more 'lame', as he put it, than before.

"Well luckily I brought some spare clothes. Trust me you'll look cool in these.", he said, pulling out pieces of clothing.

The first thing he pulled out was a yellow jacket, it had black trim running down parts of the arm and the base of the stomach. It also had a picture of an orange thing, that resembled a soul, on the chest.

"Cool.", he gazed as Dimitri pulled out more and more clothing.

The second thing he pulled out was a white band, and of course Soul had no idea what it was, so he asked him.

"Hold on, I'll show you in a minute.", The older boy replied, pulling three more things out of the bag.

Red pants, and black and yellow sneakers that matched the jacket. The final item was an orange short, with a similar symbol that was on the band, just at the chest where the jackets picture had been placed. The outfit looked silly before he'd put it on. Dimitri sent him to the bathroom, where he reluctantly attempted to wear the outfit. Most of the clothes were too big for him, even the shirt had stretched far down his small legs. He shrugged it off and walked out, revealing the cluttered mess he'd made of himself.

"Well, looks like you're gonna have to wait a while before you wear it but until then let me show you the right way.", said Dimitri, now adjusting the headband so it fell crooked over his white hair, and unbuttoning the jacket so it clearly revealed his tucked in shirt.

"Stop tucking in your shirt, that's not _cool_ Soul.", he sighed.

"Sorry.", Soul squeaked.

Even with the outfit worn just the right way, as Dimitri had described it, he still looked ridiculous. His limber body was too small for the outfit, that seemed to swallow him whole.

"When you're bigger you'll be able to wear it. Until then try changing your style, ditch the suits and mess your hair up or something. It's gonna look cool once you're used to it.", he said, flashing a grin.

Soul grinned back, revealing his sharp teeth.

"Wow, awesome! What's wrong with your mouth?!", Dimitri shouted.

Soul was conflicted, he'd cheered yet proceeded to ask him what was "_wrong_" with him. He didn't know what to say, he wasn't sad but he didn't feel right. It was uncomfortable, as if he'd suddenly been shrunken down to the size of a grape.

"I was born with them.", he lied.

"Do you know how cool this makes you? I'd kill for teeth like that! You're a lucky squirt you know?", Dimitri cheered, suddenly wiping away his fear.

Soul smirked, finally feeling confident for the first time with this boy, "Please, do you know how cool I'll look when I'm older? It's not like I'll even need the teeth."

In return, Dimitri shot him a look of confusion, and broke into a laugh, "I guess you're right, well with everything I've taught you it's pretty obvious. Just don't turn out like Wes, he's a _people-pleaser_. Those are bad, got it?"

Soul nodded.

_"People-pleaser"_, he thought.

He didn't know there was a word for it, he just always knew Wes had been allot more social than a normal human. If that's what he'd make other people feel like if he was a people pleaser, than he'd definitely never become one. Though a part of him was still unsure of what he meant.

"Dimitri! Come down here!", a voice called.

Dimitri ran silently down the stairs, greeted by his mother and father holding their bags.

"We're leaving, right away. Grab your things boy.", his father ordered.

"Leaving so soon? They finally get to you?", Dimitri smirked.

"Shut up boy, let's go. We're out of here. These people are not fit to wear the name of the _Evans_.", he chided.

"Whatever you say.", he shrugged, obeying his father.

Soul peered down the steps, overhearing the conversation. It hurt to watch his new friend leave, he'd been his first real friend for only a day, and now the time had come in which he'd have to leave. He knew it would happen, he wasn't that attached to Dimitri, a part of him was strange. Still, the way his father had spoken of his family, it didn't sit well. A part of him knew it'd be the last time, he'd ever see Dimitri.

"Soul Eater.", another voice called.

It was his mother.

"We won't be seeing your cousin here for quite a while, you know that don't you?", she stated in a surprisingly firm tone.

"Yes Mother.", he sheepishly replied.

"Good.", she disappeared into the long, narrow corridors, leaving Soul behind, again.

He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the halls, in the pointless free time he'd always seem to have. There was no point in practicing, and no point in attending his tutoring sessions. It's not like his parents would allow him to go to an actual school, and there was no point in training. He was so young, but growing so quickly, and there was still so much he didn't understand. A part of him wanted answers, the other part wanted to cooperate, trying to be the great son Wes had always been. He was seventeen now. In aging he'd made his parents proud, becoming such a successful violinist, adored by all. As he grew older and older each day, he showed up at the house less and less often. Soul longed for the freedom Wes had, able to go in and out of the house as he pleased, such freedom was pure music to his ears.

As more and more days passed, he'd begun to wonder if things would ever change. The same routine every day, it became so boring. So un-amusing, as he'd always known. There was nothing that truly interested him, though sometimes he felt himself sneaking a peak at his weapon abilities. The scythe had gotten somewhat bigger as he grew just a little more. Nothing else seemed to change, the constant roar of his parents demanding nature and his brothers exceedingly high standards filled his ears, more often than the music itself. His piano had been his only source of amusement, whether he wanted to play it or not. There was nothing else to do, therefore no point in arguing.

His attitude changed drastically. Though he still abides by his mothers simple rules, addressing her only as "_Mother_", playing the piano when needed, his attitude toward his parents had changed, at a younger age than expected. Eleven years old, only shortly after Dimitri had said his final goodbye.

"Soul Eater, why aren't you playing correctly? You've played this piece far more than enough to memorize.", his mother sighed, expressing her disapproval during his short and private recital.

"I don't know, alright? It's not like I'm a super-human I make mistakes. _Sue me_.", he snapped, not noticing his mothers gaping mouth and raised eyebrows.

"Soul Eater, go to your room we're done for the day.", she stated firmly, dismissing him at last.

"Whatever.", he picked himself up, hands in his pockets, treading lazily to his room.

Dimitri's lessons had paid off as their standards slowly begun to shrunk. Every piece he played ended up getting worse, up to the point it seemed like his mother had given up. He was always wrong though, knowing very well his mother would never give up on trying to create the perfect son, though he wasn't sure why Wes wasn't good enough. Wes was the best she'd be getting. Souls laid back attitude had taken a toll on his relationship with his parents, they seemed more stressed than usual. They no longer asked him to play at social events, where he'd certainly be laughed at and ridiculed, just like the many other times he'd performed for outsiders. His birthday wasn't his last performance, they'd ended up taking him to many more social gatherings, where he'd once again tried a hand at his own music, in which only led to shame and looks of disapproval from the more deserving Evans, that asked "so little" of him.

Time passed, he soon began to relive the same experiences, over and over. A few more relatives came to visit, none of them Dimitri. None of them stayed, they eventually became fed up with his parents egotistical attitudes, and left. They did the very thing he'd dream about doing. The more and more he dreamed about it the more he realized he was unhappy there, living in his brothers shadow wasn't very satisfying. He felt he lacked a real life.

He tread around the house with his hands in pockets, staring down at his feet just as Dimitri did. The attitude he displayed seemed to be more distant, than anything else. He wondered if Dimitri felt the same way as he did with his parents, no. Impossible, Dimitri would think it "uncool" to hate your parents in such a way. The children he'd seen at the social gatherings, and many parties his family had hosted, loved their parents unconditionally. The parents loved them back, proudly displaying each kid no matter how badly they'd messed up.

He circled the stairs once more, until he'd heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Soul, come here.", his brother Wes had been standing at the bottom of the steps.

"What do you want Wes.", he sighed, surprising Wes.

"So it's true, well little brother come with me we're going somewhere."

Soul was surprised, Wes had never offered to take him anywhere.

He jumped at the offer, "Where are we going?"

Wes stared into space and replied, "Grannies."

This was the first he'd heard of his grandmother. Wes spun many tales of her kind-hearted soul on the way there. They'd been escorted in a limo, up to his grandmothers mansion out of state. He'd never seen anything like it, it didn't look like that of a mansion, but of a house. The only difference, it had many neatly cut hedges and a fountain in the front yard. It was nothing like their house, which had been all together a four story building. His mother warned him of people who'd lived in small houses, who were considered very "_dirty_" in the house hold. He didn't understand, but that was his usual feeling.

"Why are we here?", he asked, stepping lightly out of the limo.

"Since you've been having slight attitude problems, we're going to stay at Grannies for a while. You look like you could use some time away from the house, some time to clear your head, you know?", he stated, leading the boy to the door.

"Are you staying too?"

"I'll be in and out. I come here often but when Mother and Father need me, I'll be the first one home."

"So that's where you are all day.", thought Soul.

Wes knocked on the door, which wasn't at all as big as the door at their house. If looked at from a distance, it could have been mistaken for a draw bridge instead of a door, as their home looked more like a castle than a house. These doors were small, and once the doors had opened they hadn't been greeted by servants stating the man of the house hold would be with them shortly. They were greeted by an old lady, who some-what resembled their mother, followed by pinching at both of Souls cheeks.

"I hear you're the little guy that I'll be taking care of for a while? You aren't so little anymore!,", she said, pinching the life out of his cheeks, "Last time I saw you, you were only a baby. So cute, and Wes, you're still as sharp as ever I see.", she pat Wes on the shoulder.

"Hello Granny, I hope you don't mind. We really do appreciate the offer of taking Soul in, Mother and Father just can't seem to deal with him lately.", he said cheerfully, trying to keep a positive atmosphere.

"They can't _deal with me_?", asked an irritated Soul, though it was hard to take him seriously in such a squeaky voice.

"Now let's not get into that, I'm just glad you boys are here. It gets awfully boring out here without you kids around, come inside I'll show you around.", she sensed the tension, quickly leading them both inside.

"Soul, this is the living room. You know what that is right?", she asked, guiding him into the room that looked much smaller than it had outside.

He shook his head no.

"This is where you go when you're not in any of the other rooms,", she laughed, "When you want to come in and sit or talk, or which ever. I like to come in here to read."

"Over here is the guest room, usually Wes stays here but since you're a '_special_' guest, I saved the room just for you.", she pat him on the back, "I'll let you unpack and then when you're done I'll show you the rest of the house.", she said, leaving the room.

He sat on the bed, took a quick look around the room, and thought for a moment.

_"Special."_, he thought.

He had a hard time believing anyone thought him more special than Wes, it was only a fantasy. The words she'd just said were non-existent, they didn't belong in the same sentence, "_Soul_", and the word "_Special_", were strangers.

"I see you've been given the luxury of my old guest room.", stated Wes, standing in the doorway.

"I guess.", he shrugged in response.

"Well, it appears I'm needed home for a moment. They'd like me to preform at their ball tonight. You'll be alright on your own wont you Soul?"

"Ball? They're having a ball? How come they never told me?", anger swelled up within him, as it usually did at the mention of his parents, and one of their little "_parties_".

"I don't know, I assumed they had. Oh well, you're lucky. You get to stay here with granny for a while. She'll be kind to you, Don't worry.", he said, exiting the room for a final time.

He sat on the bed, emptying his suit case of the clothes that seemed to follow the same boring pattern. It became apparent that his wardrobe consisted of nothing but tuxedo's.

_"How uncool."_, he thought.

He began to place his clothes in the drawers set aside for him. He'd managed to hide his outfit Dimitri had given to him, away from his parents, and stuffed it secretly into his suitcase. He knew if they'd found it he'd be ordered to throw it away, and the fact they'd been a gift from Dimitri wasn't helping. In fact is surprised him Dimitri still allowed him to keep the clothes, even after the apparent disapproval from his parents. On the other hand, Dimitri wasn't exactly the type of person to care, which was cool.

"Soul.", an old, female voice called from the doorway.

"Grandmother?", he replied, trying to be polite.

"Call me granny, dear. I have a question."

"Yes?"

"When exactly did you find out you were a weapon?"


	7. Advice

He stared for a moment, unsure whether or not she really knew, or she was just joking. If this was a joke, it wasn't funny. On the other hand, a more interesting question would be how exactly she found out, or who told her. He knew there was no way Wes would ever figure it out, unless he was some kind of mind reader. She stared back at the boy for about a minute before she broke into a laugh.

"You can stop looking so nervous honey, I found you out now come on and come clean.", she laughed, failing to maintain a straight face.

"Huh?", he tried to play dumb, which wasn't hard for him at this point.

"I know you're a weapon. In fact you're a scythe, a demon scythe. I know you've found out about it, it's been activated before hasn't it. Your soul is strained.", she finished, regaining her serious outlook.

"How did you find out.", he sighed, accepting defeat.

"I figured it out myself, just one look at your soul was all it took."

"Look..at my _soul_?", he broke into a blank stare, no longer pretending as he was completely dumbfounded.

"Yes dear, I can do that. I am a _Meister_ after all, however, don't tell your mother. I keep these things a secret for a reason."

"Meister? Do you have a weapon partner?", he became suddenly interested as thoughts of the academy reeled back into his head.

"I used to, yes, but not anymore. That's not the point though, not right now no.", she continued, "Meisters have the ability to read souls, and I can read yours very clearly. Except, there's something there, it's too dark to make out. Have you eaten any Kishin souls yet? Has your training begun?", she began to ramble on much like his mother did.

"My training is over. I'm no longer allowed to transform.", he replied, blankly looking down at his feet in mere disappointment.

"That's not what I'm asking though, is it? No no, your training isn't the problem. Your soul seems bothered by something, no bothered isn't the right word. Disturbed? Anxious? I feel the trace of another soul, bounding around in the very depths of your center.", she took a few steps in the room until she stood over him, towering much too tall for an average grandmother.

"I can't tell you.", he sighed.

"Could it have something to do with your teeth? I may not have seen you in person that often, however I've seen pictures, your teeth are suddenly jagged. What happened to them?", her questions began lingering in his head, stirring up more and more dark memories.

"I see. I hit a tough spot, well you can tell me when you feel like it. I will find out however, and when I do I'm going to get you some help, a weapon trapped within a family of egotistical morons. Wes is nice, however he takes up much after your father. You however, show no sign of becoming a musician. I can tell you aren't consumed with the urge to please everyone around you.", her withered voice spoke exceedingly true, wise words, lulling him into a small feeling of trust.

There had to be just one person he could trust, he figured it'd be her for the time being.

She had almost walked out of the room when he spoke up, "It was my dad."

"What was that?", she turned back around to face him, noticing a very pained look on his face.

"My dad did it, he made me eat him.", he looked down at the ground, his eyes wide open as he fought himself with all of his might, attempting not to cry in the manliest way he knew how.

"He's crazy. I hate him. _I hate all of them._", he glued his hands to his forehead, feeling the small tears swelling out of his eyes.

He explained the entire story. His grandmother sat there and listened carefully, reassuring he'd never have to endure the experience again, and that was probably her biggest lie from that point on. She knew very well he'd endure some very disturbing scenes, all Weapon and Meister pairs did. He would be no exception. After he'd finished his spill of mixed emotions, she'd decided to tell him the real story of the DWMA, Death Weapon Meister Academy.

"It's nothing like your father said it was, well it is sort of like that, but no, it's not a school for the poor, or the weak. It's to turn young, strong boys like you into men. They'll help you, and with the help of whoever's paired as your Meister, you should become a Death Scythe in no time. I'm surprised he'd failed to mention a single word of Lord Death?", she pat him lightly on the back.

"I can't remember. He said I'm never allowed to go to the academy.", he sighed, his tears drying at last.

"Nonsense, absolute nonsense. That man doesn't make the decisions, you do. This "training by yourself" thing has to end. A Meister relies on their Weapon just as a Weapon relies on their Meister. It doesn't make sense to have one without the other, it takes the fun out of it all!", she exclaimed, gluing her fists to her sides in an attempt to look stern. It didn't work, she had a very polite face which made it harder to look down on.

"I want to go to the Academy, but I don't know anything about it. I don't know where it is and I don't know who to talk to.", he rested his chin on the palm of his hand, balancing on his left leg.

"I'll make the arrangements, you however just need to meet me halfway.", she broke into a whisper, "I want you to keep your hopes up. Have faith, pull up some extra money and keep your strong spirit. I'll make the arrangements with Lord Death and have an interview set up."

"You'd really do that?", he stared at her, trying to hide his inner feelings of anguish, that never seemed to leave his soul. He'd have to ask her about that later.

"Of course, I know just how you feel. I'm surprised though, it's very rare to have a weapon in this family. In fact you may be the first, I was the first Meister after all, but still, no weapons at all. It's unheard of in the families history.", she chuckled, "Though I guess you do seem like a bit of a rule breaker."

He flashed a broken smile.

"Now, about the human soul mishap.", she put on a more disturbed face, "I want you to promise me you'll never ever eat another one, as long as you live. That's the reason the academy was created, to stop the hunting of human souls, however they may overlook it since you ate it against your own will. The fact you're still sane, and that the man had tried to kill you, is a good thing on your part. It sounds crazy but in fact it'll come in handy.", she pat him on this shoulder.

"I'll leave you to rest then, it's getting late and it seems like you've had enough excitement for one day. I'll see you in the morning.", she yawned, stretched, and quietly left the room.

He had no words. There was nothing to say, and a thank you coming from him didn't seem like much payment in his eyes. It was inhuman for somebody to be this kind, so he thought. She'd even made it a point to bash his parents. Her own daughter, was that normal? He had no idea. Did she truly feel the same way about Wes? Did she see him as a people pleaser too? Maybe, but that wasn't the point. The words swam in his mind, repeating themselves over and over again, until he finally passed out in the bed with a headache.

It was one of the most peaceful nights he'd had in a very long time. He woke up that morning, feeling much better than he had the day before. Her promising words remained glued in his mind, he prayed it wasn't a dream. No, impossible, it seemed all to real. Another feeling swelled within him, one he'd been unfamiliar with. It wasn't a bad feeling, it wasn't that of anger, or hate. This time it was something much more relaxing, one he didn't have to fight off.

He'd finally felt trust.

Soon after allowing himself a little more rest, the sun began to glare into the guest room, making it impossible to sleep. He gave up the battle with the window curtains, and decided to walk around the house a little. If he was lucky maybe he'd run into his, "_granny_", as she preferred There was an unfamiliar smell filling the house. No, not unfamiliar, just strange. It was the smell of pancakes and eggs. He followed the smell into the living room, where it soon led him over to the wall connecting into another room. The kitchen door.

_"Weird, I didn't know servants prepared eggs."_, he thought.

He took a step in, slowly opening the door. The kitchen was filled with smoke and the scent of breakfast. His grandmother stood at the stove, cooking to her hearts content. She seemed to be humming a low tune as she scrambled the eggs in the pan, placing them on a plate of pancakes, proceeding to set them on the table where she finally noticed Soul.

"Oh, good morning Soul. Did you sleep well?", she sang, focusing completely on the breakfast in front of her.

He nodded, assuming she would somehow see it.

Somehow she had as she continued, "That's good, I hope the room wasn't too much trouble. Wes often complains about the bed being a little small, however you do appear to be much younger than he. Let's see, you're twelve now, right?"

"Eleven.", he managed, taking a seat at the table.

"Oh right, and Wes is seventeen I believe?"

He nodded.

"Good, good, my memory isn't as good as it used to be so you'll have to forgive me.", she now took a seat across from him at the semi-medium sized table in the center of the room.

"Did you make this?", he asked, puzzled by the amount of labor she was putting into breakfast, knowing very well there had to be some kind of servant or maid around the house.

"Yes, I love cooking. I can show you how some time if you like?"

He blinked, reaching mass confusion, "I was always told there would be someone else around to do the cooking."

She dug her fork into the pancakes, "Well you are going to the academy after all, once there you'll be assigned a Meister and I don't believe your Meister would take pride in cooking every single meal for you. You're a growing boy, you can do it. I'll show you how later.", she took a bite.

He nodded dumbly, taking a bite as well. The taste was amazing, one of the best meals he'd ever had. Even if it was incredibly simple, he was sure he'd never be able to make a dish this well prepared. Even the servants around the house had failed to cook such an exquisite meal.

"Do you like it?", she finally spoke.

He nodded again, savoring every bite.

"That's good.", she cooed.

After breakfast, she'd mentioned something a little unsettling.

"Soul, about that human soul.", she broke the silence, observing him once he'd finished attacking the plate of food.

"What about it?", he asked nervously.

"We need to exercise it out, and get some proper training into your system. You have no idea how rare it is for someone to eat something like a human soul and survive with their sanity. It's incredible. However, if you're going to the academy we need to ensure you'll have a strong soul, one that isn't tainted. Do you understand?"

He shook his head.

"A sound _soul_ dwells within a sound _mind_, and a sound _body_. That's one of the things they teach at the academy. In order to ensure you'll be accepted, you need to clear your mind. Keep yourself healthy, don't give into the madness."

He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by madness, but he didn't like the sound of it.

"Follow me.", she got up and walked out of the room, leading him to the backyard, which was almost bigger than the house itself. It was large, extremely large. There was evidence of a river nearby and towering trees, a miniature pond off to the left and a garden growing proudly around the walls. It was beautiful.

"Soul,", she placed a hand on his shoulder as he gazed at the magnificent sight, "Today the real training begins."

This type of training, was nothing like he'd expected. The training his father had introduced him to, was that which craved power. It was disturbing, the way his father had taken so much pride in something that he knew was impossible to perfect. The crazy look in his eyes, the dark feeling he'd get whenever he was around, all of that seemed to disappear once he stepped outside into the backyard. It wasn't dark like the forest. His grandmother wasn't deranged like his father-the only thing he could be sure of at this point.

"What are we doing out here? Don't we need an obstacle course or something?", he finally asked.

"We're striving towards something else. Since you're a weapon, and I'm a Meister, I'll be unable to teach you everything you need to know. However, minor soul enhancements are something everyone should know.", she took a few steps out.

"We're going to find your inner peace. Without some type of level ground with humanity you're practically a walking ball of confusion. Now, let's start by finding your center.", she led him over to the center of the yard, where every section seemed to be equally divided off.

"There are a number of things out here that would bring inner peace to almost anybody, we just need to find which section suits you, and then we can begin. Go take a look around, there's a garden, a pond, a fountain, and my personal favorite, the miniature forest.", she pointed to the various areas, finishing with the small wooded area nearby.

"So, I just have to walk up to one of these and my soul will get stronger?", he wandered around with his hands sewn into his pockets.

"Not quite, keep looking around until you find one spot that makes you feel strong. Well, strong isn't the right word, safe is more like it. Somewhere you would hide if you were ever in a tough spot.", she explained.

He shrugged, walking around the yard for a while. The garden was alright, it was pretty, the flowers smelt good, but it wasn't his favorite place. Something about it pushed him away. He looked around some more, noticing the fountain. The fountain was pretty cool, it was gorgeous. The flower petals in the water looked alright, until he noticed something he wished he hadn't seen-his reflection in the water. Pushed away from the area once more, he decided to take a shot at the miniature forest that had been set up. It was alright, he didn't feel as nervous as he had before, but something about it was strange. The feeling he'd gotten when he stepped on the small leaves below his feet, told him it would be best for him to leave. He did as the imaginary wise voices commanded, prepared to give up.

He tripped, stumbled forward, and landed head first into the pond.

"Soul are you alright?", his grandmother called.

"I'm fine.", he managed, releasing a small fountain of water from his lips.

"I hope you didn't hurt the koi fish.", she looked nervously down into the water.

"Koi fish?", he asked, looking into the water as well.

"No, they're alright.", she said, pointing to two fish in the corner. They were very odd, they weren't like usual fish at all. Instead of being some blue or golden color like most of the fish he'd seen in the tanks around the house, these were a sort of..

"Why are they black and white?", he asked.

"They're a special type of breed. Very rare in fact, they were difficult to come across. They're my favorite."

"Do they have names?"

"Of course they do.", she smiled.

"What are they?", he asked, a little too interested in the extraordinary fish.

"This one is_ Ying_,", she pointed to the black fish, "and this is _Yang_.", she pointed to the white fish.

"Why did you call them that?", he asked, poking at the water.

"The thought of Ying and yang reminded me of my days as a Meister. They share the same type of relationship. Though the two are extremely different, down to their very souls, one can't live without the other. They complete each other."

He stared in awe at the fish.

"I think I found my center.", he finally stated.

"That's great."

"What now?"

"Well what else, we're going to begin your training."


	8. Training

"How much longer do I have to do this?", Soul complained, overly irritated with his current position.

His arms were holding hinmself up, unwillingly bent as they applied even more pressure to his shoulders. He was leaning up against a tree, using only one leg to hoist himself into the air, while balancing himself with his forearms. This had to be one of the strangest methods of teaching, he'd ever experienced.

"A few more minutes.", his grandmother replied.

His shirt began to fell over his chest, revealing his skinny stomach.

"We need to work on your muscles, even weapons need to take care of their bodies you know.", she stated, pointing to his shivering stomach and arms that seemed to be trembling under his own weight.

"If I stay like this much longer, I won't have any muscles left!", he complained, close to collapsing.

"Just a little bit longer, one more minute. You can do it.", she prodded.

He groaned and grunted, losing feeling in his forearms.

"Okay, release.", she finally commanded, after about a minute had passed.

Hearing the words he immediately collapsed, landing in an awkward position on the ground. His entire body ached, unwilling to make any attempt to stand up.

"Now you need to get up Soul, otherwise the entire exercise is pointless."

"I can't feel my..anything.", he sighed.

"Try, come on, get up now!", she urged in a soothing, expectational voice.

He tried, lifting his upper body up with what little strength had been spared in his arms and stomach. No use, he simply collapsed right back onto the ground, face squished into the dirt.

"Oh what a shame.", his grandmother sighed, "You could use a break, we'll pick it back up later.", she walked away, disappearing completely out of sight into the garden.

_"Damnit."_, Soul thought, _"Not strong enough."_, he kicked himself a bit, knowing very well if he kept this up any longer he had no hope of becoming a Death Scythe, no matter how skilled his Meister might be.

Sometimes he'd dream of his Meister, filling his head with fantasies, promising himself a strong willed, extremely talented Meister that loved to have fun at all times, and would one day beat the ultimate odds. He didn't exactly know what he was thinking when it came up in his head, but he knew whoever his Meister was would certainly be amazing.

_"Damnit. Damnit. Damnit!"_, he yelled at himself, _"How is my Meister ever gonna train someone as weak as me!"_, he sighed.

He lay his back on the ground, placing his arms behind his head, taking a quick look around to make sure his grandmother was nowhere in sight. Even if it was just a spiritual exercise, it hurt like hell. He'd never felt so weak, and so confused at the same time. Anger swelled up within him, taking a look at his already defeated body. It wasn't fair, his brother Wes had looked so strong, and he wasn't even a weapon nor a Meister, in fact he was only a violinist. Soul played the piano yet he'd never become so muscular, maybe he truly was destined to live in his brothers shadow.

_"No damn-it, shut up."_, he commanded himself, _"Stand up you little wimp!"_, he continued yelling at himself, twitching his legs.

_"Get up!"_, he shouted at himself once more.

His arms began to twitch, reaching out in front of him. His legs were shaking, the blood flowed straight into his head which made him slightly dizzy at the thought of standing up.

_"No, don't think about it just do it."_, he thought to himself, clamping his eyes shut.

With a final grunt and a sudden burst of pain, he'd found himself on his legs, gasping for air.

"I see, so you managed to pull it off?", a kind voice asked, a few feet in front of him.

"I don't like sitting on the ground. I wanted to stand.", he replied, staring up at his grandmother, who for someone her age, managed to tower over him.

"Well, now that this little exercise is out of the way, we should have no problem with your mental ability. This should be enough for me to get a clear determination on your values, as a weapon, and what you look for in a Meister.", she seemed to speak a different language.

"Huh?"

"Let me explain.", she sighed, realizing she'd spoken a mouth full, "You, as a weapon, have things in your soul known as wave links. You have a personal wave link, that allows you to connect with your partner. If your personal wave link is incompatible with your Meisters, then it could become extremely hard on you and the Meister, and somebody could get hurt. Which is why I'm trying to grasp one of your wave links, and figure out how strong you are with madness. If you've been able to suppress it this long, I imagine you have a very strong soul.", she finished, taking in a breath of air.

"Oh.", he blinked, still a little dumbfounded by her explanation.

"Now, stay perfectly still.", she commanded.

He did as he was told, and remained still has he felt something a bit strange stirring inside him. It was the feeling of being watched, followed by invasion.

"I'm using my soul perception, even if it isn't that strong anymore it should be enough to grasp at least one, little wave link.", she explained.

He opened one eye, staring at his grandmother who held both eyes closed.

"I see, you're not very open with your soul, are you, Soul?", she finally asked, opening both of her eyes.

He shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"It's fine, growing up in a house with people like your parents could be hard on anybody I imagine. I should know, I've tried to visit but those people are somewhere far away. Needless to say they need to come back to earth sometime soon, but let's move on shall we?", she finished.

He nodded hesitantly, still slightly confused at the way she'd begin to ramble on like that.

The next exercise required him to hang himself upside down over a branch on the tree nearby. He reluctantly agreed, feeling there was no other choice if he'd wanted to break free.

"Stay in that position.", she prodded as the back of his knees clasped themselves onto the thick branch. His shirt once more skid down to his stomach, this time burying his face.

"I don't think I have a choice at this point.", he mumbled through the cloth in his face.

She chuckled, "Just a little while longer Soul."

He remained still, allowing his arms to flail down to both sides of his head.

"Now! Get down!", she commanded, after a few more minutes had passed.

He panicked, suddenly realizing there was no other way down, other than landing on his head. Another thought surged into him, the tree right next to him was so thick it'd managed to neither break nor bend while supporting himself on both the trunk and the branch earlier, so it should be able to support a healthy landing, right? He released the grip on the branch that was maintained by his knees, and slid down on his back, more than likely to hit the ground head first. Instead of hitting the ground, he held the palms of his hands out, and when his knees shortly followed they'd kicked the tree trunk. He hoisted himself up on his head and shoulders, in the same position he'd been in earlier that day. This was something he could get out of, he twisted himself until he was on the ground safely.

"Great! Good job! I wasn't expecting such a brilliantly executed landing, nice thinking!", she clapped.

He allowed a small grin, feeling that of a smile tugging on his lips.

"You should get some rest, before you end up straining yourself more than you should be.", she placed a hand on his back as he stood up proudly.

He nodded, taking a step into the house hold. The house looked utterly comfortable, as to how in his house, he'd be yelled at and insulted if he'd complimented such decorations. Her house was well furnished and very inviting. His own house however had the feeling of expectation, and disappointment. The portraits lining the halls in his mansion seemed to frown upon all who entered, as if making it perfectly clear no one but an Evans belonged there.

_"Maybe I'm not a real Evans after all."_, he thought, walking down the narrow hallways.

"Ah little brother, good, you're here.", he heard a familiar voice in the room ahead.

"What do you want _Wes_?", he asked, looking up at the towering boy.

"Mother and Father told me to inform you, wait,", he paused placing a hand on his little brothers forehead, "Why are you all sweaty?".

"What's it to _you?_", he asked, swatting the hand away.

"_Ahem,_", he coughed, adjusting his collar in a well displeased manner, "Mother and Father told me to explain that you were kept away from the party because of the disgusting attitude you insist on carrying. Until your attitude vanishes at these public events, you'll be unable to attend any more gatherings as such. Fathers words, not mine.", he finished.

"Whatever, as if I cared about any of their parties.", he sighed, disappearing down the hall.

His grandmother met him in the halls, proceeding with a wide smile, "Are you relaxing like I told you to? You look sick.", she placed a hand on his forehead just as Wes had done.

"I'm fine, I just didn't know Wes was here.", he slightly grit his teeth, trying to maintain a slight smile.

"He's here? I didn't know either. I'll go talk to him and when I'm done we'll pick back up on your training, alright?", she tilted her head to the side, smiling brightly.

He nodded, defeated by her kind attitude. She walked back down the long hall where she was greeted by Wes in the living room. Soul took a short shower, changing into the most casual outfit he had, a white dress shirt and brown pants. The shirt and pants belonged to a suit, accompanied by a suit and tie he never wore. That was the best thing he could pull together for the time being, since Dimitri's close still didn't fit, and his entire wardrobe consisted of plain formal attire.

"Just calm down Soul, you don't have to compete with Wes on this. He isn't a weapon, or a Meister. He has nothing against you, you're the weapon not him.", he thought to himself, attempting to relax his mind as well as his aching limbs.

He grit his teeth, "After everything those bastards have done, it's Wes you're mad at? Pathetic. Damnit.", he yelled at himself silently.

"_Soul?_", a voice called, "Is that you?"

"What?", Soul asked, raising his voice.

"Oh nothing little brother, I wanted to inform you that you're leaving in a week. I just came to drop off a few things.", his older brother appeared in the doorway.

"Take whatever it is and go, I'm taking a nap.", he sighed, leaning back on the bed.

It was still hard to take him seriously in the little voice he was forced to speak with. He showed no signs of maturing anytime soon, which only made training that much more difficult for him.

"By the way Soul,", Wes interrupted his thoughts, "Father requested you played for an audience he'd gathered at the house hold, next week. You'll be able to do that won't you?"

His request was basically a knife in the chest.

"Why should I?", he snapped.

"It would disappoint Father if you didn't, also, I missed your last performance I heard a few things but I'd like to see it for myself. Would that be alright?", he asked in a bit more soothing voice.

"Whatever.", he sighed, giving up and walking out of the room.

The strength in his arms and legs hadn't fully returned but he knew what he was going to do. If anything he'd only prove to himself he was stronger than Wes, unwilling to give into anyone's commands. Even if it meant disobeying a kind old lady, he propped himself up against the tree. He positioned himself in the familiar way he'd done it previously that day. His arms ached, his legs hurt, but he was determined to stay that way for a full fifteen minutes.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Every minute seemed to drag by, feeling much more like an hour than a minute, or even a year. His only means of telling time would be the position of the sun, in which he'd learned so little about. The strange, laughing son that seemed to be fighting off sleep. He'd stay in this position until the sun was down, surrendering to the night sky.

Five minutes.

Six minutes.

Seven minutes.

The more he thought about the time, the more he'd felt the urge to just give up and lay down, surrendering his body to a well deserved nap.

Ten minutes.

_"Damnit, stop thinking about it."_, he thought, struggling to breathe under the weight of his own body.

He took small, concentrated breaths, refusing to give up. There would be absolutely no way he'd let Wes get to him. No matter what, he would get stronger and he'd make his future Meister proud.

Fifteen minutes.

A surge of triumph hit him, as he willingly collapsed onto the ground, taking much deeper, choppy breaths. The sun was down, night had fallen to his surrounding victory.

"Soul?", a sweeter voice called, "Is that you?"

A woman towered over him.

"Didn't I tell you to rest? What are you doing out here?", his grandmother asked.

He stood up tall, almost surprising her, "I wanted to try this again."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Fifteen minutes."

Her jaw dropped, "Soul we agreed to start off small, only five minutes at a time remember? Your body's strength is no good if it's working against you."

"I just had to try, I knew I could do it I just had to give it another shot. It's not cool to give up that easily, you know?", he smirked, letting out a low laugh.

She pat him on the back, "I know, let's go inside now. We'll continue your training tomorrow young weapon."

Morning hit him like a breath of fresh air. He checked the time, perfect.

His grandmother had waken up an hour after, checking on the guest room. To her surprise, he was gone. No where to be found. Then it hit her again, the little boy was pushing himself further than she'd thought healthy.

"I knew I'd find you out here.", she said, stepping into the backyard where he'd been balancing on his shoulders once more. This time, only one leg had been positioned on the tree, the other was in a sort of triangle, leaning on the other.

"Soul, stop that, before you hurt yourself. How long have you been doing this anyway?", she frowned, seeing the deep red color in his face.

"Since six in the morning.", he groaned, gasping for air.

"Eager to learn are we?", she chuckled a bit as he released his position.

He nodded, grinning slightly.

"Well, let's get started!", he cheered, this may have been the most enthusiastic he'd ever felt while training.

The training went on for hours on end, without him minding a single bit of it. Every physical or mental challenge she'd put him up to, he accepted. Nothing was too complicated, he only felt a bit stronger at the end of everyday, knowing very well if anyone other than him in his _"family"_ had been challenged to such tasks, such as balancing awkwardly against a sturdy tree, they most definitely would've turned up their noses. He, however, knew deep in his heart there was no place for a soul like his in the Evans house hold. This was his compensation training became his home.

A new pattern arose, once he'd left his grandmothers house for the first week. Small muscles began to form on his arms and legs, and the faint trace of abs aligned his stomach. He'd felt proud of himself, instead of simply attempting not to disappoint anybody else, he was living up to his own expectations. He'd never felt so alive. That visit to his grandmothers wasn't his last, as he visited more and more, and she eagerly agreed to continue his secret training.

During one visit she'd made the announcement.

"Soul,", she spoke one day while eating dinner, "I spoke to Lord Death about having you enrolled in the academy."

He took a bite out of his delicious food, "What did he say?".

"He said he'd be more than happy to look into your file, once you've reached the age of fourteen. That's when someone can legally enter his academy as a student."

The news made him jump for joy, he felt himself growing faster and stronger every second, even though he'd still only been eleven years old. He was turning twelve in less than a few months.

_"Only a little longer."_, he smiled to himself, enjoying his dinner.


	9. The Escape

The visits continued, as did the training. While at his own house, with his family, he'd proceeded his average lifestyle as if nothing was out of the ordinary. At his grandmothers, he'd proceed her basic training, listening carefully as he taught him all she could remember about souls. No one suspected even the slightest that he'd been training, and when his muscles began to form he'd used "puberty" as his golden excuse. That answer either drove people away from the question, or out of the subject. Either way, it worked. He became more and more detached at parties and any events held at the house, not just because he liked going back to his grandmothers, he just never felt like he belonged. He brought a new meaning to the term "stranger in your own home". His home was somewhere far from here, he knew it, he'd just have to find it.

_"How much longer.."_, he thought, situating himself onto the piano bench.

His mother nodded to him, signalling to begin the practice performance. He did, it was never good enough for her of course. A few times she'd invited Wes in, who would tell her he was improving very well. That was always his answer, never saying what was really on his mind. Eventually his mother would catch on and instruct him to play once again after he'd said it. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary though, he'd just have to endure it.

Tutoring, home schooling, work and lessons. All of it rolled up into one ball would be a perfect explanation for life at his parents home, if anybody asked. Nobody did though, he'd barely spoken to another kid his age. The only other people he'd seen were those at the parties, where he remained silent and stood in the corner, until Wes would walk over to him and encourage his little brother to chat, and mingle, just as he did. It never worked, he simply shrugged it off as he heard the whispers erupting from the chattering mouths of their guests. They would all say the same thing.

_"Who is that?"_

_"Wes has a brother?"_

_"He never told me he had two sons!"_

_"I didn't know either!"_

_"I heard he's very skilled on the piano!"_

_"I would love to hear him!"_

Basically all of the conversations around him seemed to repeat themselves, not that he hasn't heard similar chatter. The only thing that surprised him when ease dropping on an unsuspecting guests conversation, was the fact his Father never seemed to mention him. A part of him was fine with it, Soul himself didn't truly acknowledge the man as his Father, but the other part of him hurt a little. It was nothing though, he'd learned to turn off the pain.

His soul grew stronger, he could feel it. The only true thing the human soul had changed about him was his teeth, luckily. His sanity was spared, there was a still a human lingering there, even though Soul knew very well his Father only saw him as a monster. Though, the man didn't completely look at the fact he'd been the one to shove the soul down his throat, turning him into the boy he was today.

Another week at his grandmothers house. Though, something felt a little wrong. Her voice wasn't as musical or kind as it had sounded before. It was dry. She looked sick to the very depths of her soul, she'd begun a slight cough too. Whenever he asked her about it, she'd shrug him off and dismiss him back to his training. He was reluctant, but he trusted her more than anyone. He knew she was strong, whatever it was she'd beat and return to the strong Meister she once was. She still is.

"Soul.", she called to him, letting out a slight cough.

"Granny?", he asked, looking up at her.

"I bought you something, I want you to have it, you'll need it to get to Death City, in Nevada. I know you're growing fast.", she coughed a bit, fighting it off with a swallow.

"What is it?", he asked, a little worried about her cough, that had progressed a bit more.

"Come look.", she took his hand and led him to the garage.

Sitting in the corner, was a brand new motorcycle. He was a bit puzzled, she should have known he wasn't old enough to drive it yet.

"I can't drive, I don't know how.", he sighed.

"You don't need to learn yet.", she pat him on the shoulder.

He took a step closer to the bike, admiring it's colors. It was a type of yellow and black, with a pattern stamped onto the medal. It reminded him of the pattern that had been on Dimitri's outfit, which he was longing to grow into now. He imagined how cool he'd look on the bike, complimented by his cool outfit. He was practically drooling.

He sat on the bike.

"Here Soul, you can't quite reach the gas pedals yet but when you can you'll at least know what to do.", she began.

He looked up at her, and down at the bike, and back up at her. She explained the basics of riding a motorcycle, and instructed he'd need a helmet for the time being, and that when he was older he'd be able to use it. She couldn't get him a car, a car would be too hard to hide. A motorcycle was better if he'd be going on quick missions with his Meister. He listened, watched, and learned carefully as she told him what to do, and how to start the bike. He went on his first ride when he was twelve. He had to use a pair of Wes's shoes in order to maintain footing on the pedals, but other than that it fit him perfectly. His grandmother took him to the front yard, where he rode around to his hearts content, scaring her by popping multiple wheelies and nearly throwing himself off the bike twice.

He didn't care though, it didn't matter to him. He was happy, and he was all set for the academy.

Time passed by, things began to change, very slowly. His face had matured, his voice began to crack, his six pack had finally come in. He looked at himself in the mirror, acknowledging the very "_cool_" thirteen year old boy in his reflection. His first thought on his birthday, enrolling into the academy. He'd made it a point to misbehave at a previous party, where he'd most definitely be sent back to his grandmothers. His grandmother didn't mind, she loved having him come over. Having him over reminded her of the days she'd been a Meister. Her condition seemed to be getting a little better, he saw less and less of the cough as she slowly bought back her youth. Everything seemed perfect to him.

He'd never been so wrong.

"Soul?", a voice in the doorway asked.

"What do you want Wes?", he asked, still admiring his outfit.

"Well, Soul I have some..some bad news.", he hesitated.

"What is it Wes?", he turned around slightly, eyes wide opened as he noticed the tear stains on Wes's cheeks.

"Soul..", he hesitated again, granny is..", tears formed on Wes's face, "Granny is _dead_.", he finished, breaking off into another set of waterworks.

"What are you talking about Wes.", Soul flinched, she can't be dead. She can't be, stop lying damnit.", he demanded, clamping his eyes shut.

There was no way he was crying, not in front of Wes.

"Damnit Soul, I'm not lying. She's dead, they found her last week.", he frowned.

"_I.._I.. Why didn't you tell me sooner damnit.", he stuttered, feeling as if the walls would cave in at any second.

"Don't you think I wanted to? I found out this morning! They didn't tell us because they thought it would distract us! Damnit Soul I'm just as angry as you are! Don't you understand? They told me this morning, the funeral is being held today. The self centered bastards. Let's go Soul, we're going to granny's."

Soul clenched his fist, somewhat surprised, and pleased at his brothers remark towards his parents.

He cleared his head. No, he wasn't going to cry. He knew exactly what his granny would've wanted, he'd spent time with her the most. The training counted as good bonding time, as a few times he'd spill into a few emotional break downs. She'd always been there to comfort him. That was gone, but her effort wasn't going to just waste a way. She'd trained a weapon, and a weapon he'd become.

"Damnit, Wes I'm going but I swear to god. Don't say one damn word to me on the way there. I need to think.", he replied, refusing to give into his tears.

His deepened voice was much easier to take seriously. Wes frowned and nodded, wiping away his few tears, leading Soul to the car. They drove off to granny's home once more, knowing very well she was gone. She wasn't going to be there, no matter how badly they'd want to see her. It didn't matter, she would live on somehow. Soul knew it. There had to be a way.

Soul quickly changed into a black suit and tie, stuffing Dimitri's outfit and his favorite red and black suit into his suit case. He grabbed the very few things he needed, his clothes. The rest was at his grandmothers.

The car ride was long and silent, Soul planted his face into the window, thinking to himself about everything she'd taught him. He tried to remember the very crucial words she'd spoken to him about the academy, he knew it was time.

As soon as they arrived, Soul darted out of the car, immediately opening the car door on Wes's drivers seat.

"What is it Soul.", he asked.

"I need to show you something.", he held out his hand.

"What would that be, what could possibly be so important.", he stated roughly as a few more tears trickled down his face.

"I'll show you after the funeral", he walked into the house, noticing the bunch of cars that had been parked in the driveway.

The ceremony was long, the tears filling the room made it even harder not to cry in front of those people. Soul promised himself he'd be strong, for her sake at least. She had been a giant slap in the face, a good one. Not the kind his mother would give him when he misbehaved, the kind meant to pull someone back into sanity. It was unconditional.

He maintained his posture and sanity throughout the ceremony. There was no casket that anybody would be able to look at, she'd requested cremation. Her ashes would be free, just like her spirit, just like her soul. Even in death she was a brilliant Meister.

After the ceremony, Soul quickly grabbed Wes's wrist and led him outside, into the backyard. Once there, Wes took a seat on a nearby bench, underneath a shaded tree.

"Now I can show you.", Soul stated, his now grown hair covering a part of his eyes.

"What is it.", asked a curious Wes, taking in the fresh air.

Soul didn't respond, he simply held out his left arm. In a flash, it turned into a blade.

Wes was shocked.

"Amazing. I..I don't know what to say.", stated a fairly amused Wes, "Never in a million years would I have thought the blood of a weapon ran in the family veins.", rubbed his chin in fascination.

"This is my _escape._", Soul narrowed his eyes.

"Escape? What are you escaping from?"

"This, the life of the Evans. I'm never going back."

"Soul, what do you know about being a weapon? When did you find out?", he trailed off.

"The same time Father started "spending time" with me. The same time he turned me into a _monster,_", he grit his teeth, "not at the same time, he forced a human soul down my throat. That's why my teeth are like this Wes, it had nothing to do with my adult teeth growing in."

"Soul, you don't have to escape from us. You can accept us, just like we accepted you."

"You didn't accept me, you tried to change me, until you felt I was something worthy. I'm not worthy yet, am I _big brother?_", he sighed, turning his back on his brother, still sitting on the bench.

"I don't know what to say.", replied Wes once more.

"I am a weapon, I have an escape. I know where I am going. I will train at the academy, and I will become a death scythe.", he said, raising the blade on his arm.

"Soul..I can't say I fully approve, but I can say granny would be proud.", he stated.

The next thing that happened, surprised Soul far beyond anything else he'd expected. He looked to Wes, who then stumbled up to him, giving him a firm hug, ignoring the fact the blade on his arm was still out.

"_Go_.", said Wes, "Make granny _proud_. Do everything you said you would, make this family proud. I _know.._", he hesitated, "I know we haven't been the best family, and I know they've underestimated you, but now you have this chance. _Go Soul,_ get out, show them what you're _worth."_, he stated, fighting back more tears, patting his brother on the shoulders, until he finally released, dismissing him.

"Goodbye _Wes_.", Soul stated for a final time, running inside, where he changed into Dimitri's outfit.

Just like that, he hopped on his motorcycle, made his way to Nevada, and never looked back.

* * *

**Don't be fooled, it isn't over just yet.**


	10. Starting Over

The Nevada sun hit him as soon as he entered the state line. It was a desert, nothing much dirt and dry sun for miles. He'd follow the mental map she'd given him, in other words he made a few turns until he thought he was going in the right direction. Luckily, after a few hours or longer, the exit sign read loud and clear, "_Nevada_". He smirked the minute he saw it, surely there would be a sign directing him to Death City. He was wrong of course, and he'd visualized his grandmothers mental map.

"Damn..Where the hell is it.", he muttered to himself, taking another wrong turn.

"Aha!", he yelled in triumph, seeing the outline of a city in the far distance.

Death City was nothing at all like he'd expected.

It was small, and slightly creepy, though that might have been the reason he instantly fell in love with it. The way the town loomed in the middle of the desert, a more deranged part of Soul found the idea "cool". He was certain, the academy had to be there somewhere. For once in his life, he was right. Though his wail of triumph was interrupted by the rough sound of multiple pops coming from the engine.

Of course, he was running out of gas. He took his very first step into Death City, walking around for a while until he found a shop that conveniently sold motor oil. He pumped the oil into his motorcycle, and asked for directions to the academy, before speeding off again. Luckily, his grandmother had gotten sneaky, and worried. She'd hidden some money on the bike. He'd first noticed it before his journey, the money that was taped onto the bike, just under the seat.

He looked up and thanked her.

_"Now..we just need to speak to this "Lord Death" guy and we're in."_, he thought to himself, pulling up to the front of a very large set of stairs. The building towered over him, it looked more like a castle. He kept his jaw from dropping, making his way to the door. It was deserted of course, nearing the end of June, meaning the end of summer. Not even a teacher in sight.

It wasn't hard to get lost down the long hallways, but eventually he stopped in front of a large medal door, that read, "The Death Room".

"Well..Lord Death, Death Room, sounds good to me.", he reassured himself, knocking on the door.

The door opened, and to his surprise, above him hung a long row of guillotine He definitely knew it, if he stepped out of line, or strayed from the path of humanity, there's no doubt they wouldn't hesitate. He'd be destroyed.

"Uh..", he hesitated, "Lord Death?", he called down the hallway.

"Yes? Yes? Good! It's you! Good to see you!", replied a goofy voice.

Soul took a good look at Lord Death, his inner self fighting off laughter. The man looked ridiculous even his mask was silly. He didn't look like the Lord of Death at all.

"Um, Lord Death, is that you?", he asked, gawking at the mask.

"Yes, yes. Now now, what is it? Are you here for enrollment?", he bounced around.

"Uh, yeah. Actually. My grandmother..", he was cut off.

"Oh! Your grandmother, she was a great Meister you know. Such a shame she died, but now. Enrollment was it?"

Soul blinked, unsure if he'd just been the center of some childish prank, "Yeah, she wanted me to attend the academy. I'm a weapon.", he finished.

"Ah, I see, well luckily she filled out the forms before the tragedy and she's been placed as a legal guardian, in case anything were to happen to your mother or father. Now, I just need you to answer a few questions.", he replied in a strangely cheerful voice.

"Yeah sure alright.", replied a suddenly eager Soul.

"I just need your age, name, and weapon form."

_"Name.."_, thought Soul.

"My name is Soul Eater, I'm thirteen, Demon Scythe."

"Welcome to the academy Soul Eater! You're in luck too, you don't have to go through any of the interviews because it's too close to the beginning of the year and none of the teachers want to do the paper work!", he cheered, "School starts next week on Monday at 7 in the morning. Be sure you're there, you'll definitely want to meet your Meister soon.", he paused, "Oh, right, do you have a Meister?"

Soul shook his head. For a moment it felt as if he were a lost puppy, missing an owner. The sad truth, that's what he was.

"Alright, just be there like I instructed and there should be an open sea of promising Meisters!", he cheered as he dismissed Soul, who now tread silently down the halls of the academy.

_"I finally did it.."_, he thought, _"I finally ditched that stupid name."_, he smirked.

His problems weren't over. He'd have to find a place to stay, until class started next week. There was absolutely nobody he knew in the city, and the money his grandmother gave him only sufficed for two or three nights in a motel. He wasn't sure how dangerous it would be in Death City at night, but he didn't want to find out. Another problem, how did he know there was a Meister out there that could put up with him. What if they were all like his parents, what if his Meister deemed him unworthy.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of window knocked out of him.

"Ow! Watch where you're going!", he yelled at the kid in front of him, who'd just bumped into him with the strength of a speeding train.

"How dare you speak to your god like that!", the boy screamed back.

"God? Who the hell?", Soul rubbed his head and looked at the blue haired boy toppled on the floor in front of him.

He wore a dark tank top, and white pants. His entire outfit was laced with a belt and accessories, such as weapons and gloves, strapped to his side and arms.

"You! You dare defy the mighty Black*Star!?", he chanted, stepping into a sort of "_warrior_" pose.

He couldn't help it, it was too much. The pressure, he couldn't fight it any longer. If he did, he was certain he would lose his mind. He held his sides.

"_...OH MY GOD YOUR NAME IS ACTUALLY BLACK*STAR!_", he laughed at the top of his lungs, "_THAT'S THE FUNNIEST THING I'VE HEARD ALL DAY AND I JUST MET LORD DEATH!_", he continued laughing until tears of joy sprouted from his eyes.

"What's so funny! I bet you're just jealous because you have a dumb name!", he pointed at the laughing boy, on the ground, holding his sides as if they were about to fly out.

"Not funnier than Black*Star!", he laughed again.

"FINE! Let's hear it then! Unless you're a,", he made two wings with his arms, "CHICKEN!", he began to flap and cluck like a chicken, not helping the fact it was nearly impossible for Soul to stop laughing already.

Soul broke into another laugh, on the ground again. Black*Star couldn't help but laugh too, realizing what he'd been doing.

"So what's your name man?", asked Black*Star, reaching his hand out.

"Soul Eater.", he replied with a smirk, taking the hand as Black*Star hoisted him up.

For a boy his size, he'd been fairly strong.

"Ha! A puny name like that?! Your name is simply just terrified since it can't comprehend such a big stars name, like mine!", he continued his warrior pose.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it Black*Star,", he replied, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"So kid, you a Meister or a weapon?", he asked.

"Weapon. How about you?"

"Assassin! I'm a Meister, and next week I'll officially enroll in the academy for the first time ever! My weapons going to be strong, and awesome, and far too great for you lesser weapons!", he pointed a finger straight at Souls face, Soul fighting the temptation to slap it away.

"I need a Meister, and my Meisters definitely going to kick some serious ass.", he gave a wide toothy grin.

Black*Star stared in aw for a moment.

"Dude!", he exclaimed, "Your teeth!", he began pulling at his mouth, opening and closing his jaw, trying to get a better look at the sharp teeth.

"Stop it! What the hell!", Soul let out a partially muffled scream, trying to get the boys hands away from his mouth.

"Awesome! How'd you get _those_ set of razors? They're.. They're..", he paused, putting on a serious face, "_ALMOST AS GODLY AS ME YAHOO!_", he let out a scream as his serious face vanished, possibly permanently.

"Well anyway.", Soul blinked, feeling his own jaw for a moment, "Do you live in Death City?", he asked.

"I live in the academy.", he paused, "But starting Monday, I'll find my awesome Weapon and move in with whoever they are!", he exclaimed.

A part of him wanted to ask why the boy lived in the academy, and if there were any other students around, but something told him it'd be a good idea not to get into it. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Who do you think your weapons gonna be?"

"Who else! Someone godly! Someone who can do the unthinkable! How bout you?"

"Someone bad-ass, duh.", he smirked, refusing to grin at the expense of Black*Star grabbing his teeth again.

"Black*Star!", a voice called from behind.

"Huh? Yeah Sid?", he asked, turning around towards a muscular man with black dread locks in his hair.

"Get back over here, we need to presume your training.", he commanded, then pointed at Soul, "_You_, what are you doing here? Are you a student?", he asked.

"As of Monday, yeah I guess I am.", he gulped.

"Well the academy is off limits after hours unless it's an emergency. What are you doing here?", he pointed a finger up to his face.

"I don't_..I_", he didn't want to say it, but at this point he had nothing to lose, "I don't have anywhere to go. I haven't found a place yet."

"I see, well then we'll just have to hold a cell for you until Monday, then when you're assigned a Meister you'll just have to move in with them.", he sighed.

Soul shrugged and followed the man, until something hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Wait,", he stopped, "did you say cell? As in, _jail_ cell?"

"Relax kid, they're holding cells. There are two sections, one is used as a jail, for captured witches or enemy spies, the other section is for kids like you, students who've lost their homes. Black*Stars holding cell is down here somewhere.", he led them both down through a door into a dark corridor.

He shrugged and relaxed a little, knowing they wouldn't be so savage as to treating him like a prisoner, at least not if they were kind enough to allow Black*Star permanent residence there.

"Here we are kid, I suggest you go grab whatever stuff you've got and bring any valuables down here, if you drove here, which I assume you did since you don't have a house here, and it's far too long to walk,", he coughed as he began to ramble, "just park whatever you came here on in the garage and take any personal belongings with you. Oh, and no pets.", he finished, exiting the cell and disappearing down into the dark hallways.

He already knew what to do, he made his way to the front of the academy, pulling the bike around to what seemed to be the garage. It wasn't connected to the building, it was further off to the side, away from view. He knew it'd be a long walk retrieving it but at this point he didn't care. He grabbed his suitcase, and strolled back down into his cell. It was surprisingly comfortable, as he drifted off into a long, well deserved rest.

His grandmother flooded his dreams.

_"Soul"_, a pure voice called to him.

He wasn't sure where he was, though he knew where he was going. He followed the sound.

"Granny?", he stated in his manliest voice, though it proved to no avail since it's very hard to keep cool while talking to your dead grandmother who insists on being only addressed as "granny".

_"Soul, you've made me proud.",_ she stated.

"Granny is that you?", he asked, walking toward the noise.

_"I can't help you, from this point on the choice is yours."_

"What do you mean you can't help,", he panicked, "I can't do this alone."

_"You won't do it alone, your Meister will be there for you."_

"My Meister? I haven't even met my Meister!", he protested.

_"Soon, you'll find the one who will purify your soul. Take that person into your heart, open yourself to that person, Soul."_

"What are you talking about?", he asked, utterly confused as of this moment.

_"I have to go now."_, she stepped out of the shadows in a bright white outfit, giving him a tight hug.

"You have to go? But Why?"

_"The choice is yours now Soul. I'm proud of you."_, she smiled, disappearing into a bright white light.

Soul jolted up in his rough medal bed. He'd woken up in a cold sweat, looking down at himself in the bed. The moon was laughing down at the bars on the cell window. There was something he'd noticed in his dream, his outfit had been changed. It was changed, as if it no longer represented Dimitri. Something was different, but he couldn't quite place it.

Then it hit him.

He stumbled out of bed and pulled a few things out of his bag. His grandmother had left him some personal items, she'd always wanted to see him enjoying her gifts. Two things lay at the top of his lazily packed suitcase, a pin that held a round item with, what looked like a mouth, on it. Except, the mouth had razor sharp teeth, just like him. She'd said it reminded her of him and his sharp teeth. The second thing, a patch she'd saved from her days as a Meister. It was meant to go with her uniform, the moment she collected her first soul it had been given to her. It was a blue patch with the word "_Soul_" sewn in on with black thread. He took a moment, attaching the Velcro patch onto the first thing he laid eyes on.

The tan band that was meant to wrap around his head.

To his surprise, it stuck just like glue. Shortly after admiring it, he pinned the mouth onto the right side of his band, completing the look.

Only one word could form in his mind, describing how he'd felt about the outfit altogether,

_"Cool."_


	11. Excitement

The week went by surprisingly fast. Black*Star showed him around the academy, where he often jumped on top of every pedestal or statue possible, making it perfectly clear that in his own eyes, he was nothing less than a "_god_". Though, he had to admit, he was a pretty cool guy once you got to know him. They hit it off quickly, becoming good friends.

_"Could this guy be my Meister?"_, he thought.

"BEHOLD! ALL BELOW ME! I AM THE MIGHTY BLACK*STAR!", he screamed, lunging himself on top of a spike that was sticking out of the side of the academy.

"Uh, Black*Star I don't think that's such a good idea.", his voice was interrupted by the sound Black*Star screaming, plummeting to the ground.

He leaned over the side, watching in half amazement as Black*Star didn't have a single scratch on him.

"This kid is powerful but he's pretty damn loud for an assassin don't you think?", thought Soul, scratching his head.

"FEAR NOT!", Black*Star screamed at the top of his lungs, "I'M PERFECTLY FINE! YOUR GOD WILL BE UP THERE TO GREET YOU SHORTLY!"

"Take your time.", Soul replied, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up.

The week went on just like that, Soul putting up with Black*Star, as he tripped, slipped, fell off of, and destroyed multiple things. Sid often yelled at them, but he didn't mind. He found it exciting, it was the situation where you never knew for sure what he was gonna do next. Still, something didn't feel quite right about Black*Star, something about him told him he wouldn't become his Meister. His Meister remained a mystery, and until the day officially came, he'd have to just wait and see who it could be.

Later that day after Black*Star was dismissed to his training, once more, he decided to roam around the academy for a while in search of something to do. Needless to say he was much more intrigued wandering around the academy as to his lonely mansion. He took a stroll down to the parking garage, where he found Sid, oddly enough.

"Sid? What are you doing here?", he peeked into the garage.

"Black*Star's training so I'm grabbing a few things, you know, a few instruments of _"torture"_.", he chuckled, "That's the kind of man I am, I like to push my students. Now what is it you wanted kid?", he replied.

"I'm bored. I thought I'd take a ride on my-", he paused when he noticed a chain on his bike, "Why is my bike chained to the floor."

"Oh right, we had to lock it up in case anyone tried anything funny. We take good care of our students and their possessions, by the way I lost the key so It's gonna be a while until you get to take it out.", he let out a defeated laugh, rubbing the back of his head.

"You what?!", Soul hissed.

"Calm down, I'm sure there's loads of stuff to do other than riding your motorcycle, you're not going anywhere are you?"

Soul shook his head.

"See, then wouldn't riding your bike be wasted effort?", he placed his fists on the sides of his stomach, "Tell you what, we'll leave the supplies out for you. You can upgrade your bike or whatever you."

"Well..", he hesitated, "I do hate wasted effort..", he nodded, giving into the idea.

"Alright well then,", his voice was interrupted by a "_YAHOO!_" and a loud crash, "I've gotta go. BLACK*STAR!", he yelled, running out of the garage.

Soul sighed, knowing very well Black*Star was doomed. He took a look at a few of the supplies. There were a few spare parts, buckets of paint coatings and a few brushes. He took a look at his bike. The yellow and black pattern complimented his outfit well, but when he wasn't wearing it, the bike stuck out like a soar thumb. He took a look at the first color, orange.

_"Good enough."_, he thought.

He took a look at the second color. Black.

_"Perfect."_, he smirked.

It took a few hours, and allot more effort than he'd thought needed, but it was worth it. After the paint had dried and he'd finished the coating of paint, the bike basically glowed in front of him. It was a dark orange, with black trim following the base color, that basically looped up and around.

He took a look outside, the moon was laughing at him. Too late to take it for a ride now, and he feared it might still be wet.

_"I guess I could call it a day."_, he yawned, walking over to the academy. He made his way to the corridor, back into his cell, where he heard the sound of more people.

_"Prisoners?"_, he thought.

"Black*Star, if you keep this up no one in the right mind will agree to be your Meister! Pull yourself back down to earth!", a voice, he recognized as Sid, screamed.

"My Meister will be a god! Just like me! I don't need acceptance!", he protested, not at all phased by the yelling.

The two stopped to look at Soul as he turned the corner.

"Am I interrupting something.", he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"No, not at all, come right in.", Sid replied, moving out of the way, "Black*Star you're lucky I am willing to forgive you. I'm a forgiving person, that's the kind of man I am.", he sighed, walking back down into the hallway.

"Hey Soul! Where have you been all day buddy?", he called, standing outside of his cell door.

"I've been working on my bike. What about you? Got a little bit on Sid's bad side there?"

"Nah, it's just tough for humans like him to handle such a big guy like me. That's why I hold back my godly powers, if I revealed my true power, you humans might go blind!", he laughed.

"Whatever you say.", Soul ignored his boasting, resting on his medal bed.

"Hey Soul.", Black*Star called again.

"What is it?", he sighed.

"Let's make a deal."

"Deal? For what?", he asked, leaning up on his bed now.

"Let's say, if we don't find Meisters on Monday..", he hesitated, "You and I become partners!"

He shot a look of confusion, which Black*Star obviously couldn't see through the wall. It was a little strange. Could what Sid had said gotten to Black*Star after all?

"Sure thing.", he yawned, retreating to slumber at the sound of a loud "Yahoo!" coming through the walls.

The next morning he awoke to the sound of a laughing sun and light glaring through the window. It was quiet, a sign Black*Star had gotten up already and left. He yawned, sighing and pulling a few things out of his bag. He was hoping for something worth treasuring, he could have sworn the dream he'd just had, warned him of a few keepsakes resting in his bag. Nothing, the only thing he'd had with him were two suits, Dimitri's outfit, and his headband. That and his bike, but that was all he needed. There was no reason to take anything else.

A gut wrenching feeling kicked him in the stomach. He thought about Wes, and how he was more than likely, never going to see him again. It wasn't Wes's fault, he hadn't personally done anything to Soul, not without consciously knowing it anyway. His parents however, they were too much to endure. What was Soul going to do if he truly could not find a Meister, what if he was so unworthy, he was sent back to his home? What if his parents were right?

"YAHOO!", screamed a familiar, interrupting voice, followed by a vicious kick to the side.

"WHAT THE HELL BLACK*STAR", screamed Soul, pulled out of his trance.

"You were staring into space like an idiot, and you turned your back on your opponent! Who does that!?", Black*Star screamed back.

"Staring..what..ME AN IDIOT? WE'RE NOT FIGHTING YOU IDIOT!"

"Everyone is my opponent Soul, and since no one on earth can defeat me, YAHOO!", he screamed, stepping on Souls face.

"I'll kill him.", Soul grumbled under his foot, ready to transform and chop him into bite sized pieces.

"BLACK*STAR!", another voice rang throughout the hallways.

"Oh crap, Sid!", Black*Star muttered, hiding behind Soul.

Soul must have made a good wall, Sid didn't even blink when he saw Soul standing there.

"Hey kid do you know where Black*Star is?", he sighed.

_"You're kidding right?"_, thought Soul.

"Yeah,", he replied in an unforgiving, unmerciful tone, "He's right here.", he said as he pushed Black*Star out.

"You can't catch me Sid! I'm the mighty Black*Star!", he announced, using Souls face as a stepping stool, running straight out the door and out of Sid's sight.

"Black*Star!", Sid shouted, running down the hall behind him.

_"Well, at least Black*Star stopped me from going nuts back there."_, he thought.

It was a shame to admit, but if Black*Star and Soul ever teamed up he had the feeling he'd never become a death scythe. Sure, Black*Star was more than strong, he was an absolute animal. Though, he needed someone other than Soul to bring him down to earth. Someone would have to harness Black*Star, meanwhile being open minded enough to comply.

_"Does a person like that even exist?"_, he thought, staring down at his feet.

If Soul had any chance of finding a Meister, he'd have to find one more than forgiving. He'd have to find a saint, someone willing to pull him back down to earth, controlling the monster he was bound to become. The tiny demon within him would swell one day, and it would take a miracle to save him. In any case, he'd need an angel.

"Hopeless.", he sighed, glaring at the ground as if it'd just insulted him.

The next few days in the academy were exciting, Black*Star made every turn a mystery. If you could predict what Black*Star was about to do next, you were obviously an otherworldly psychic. One who's been working for years, even lifetimes maybe. Every morning he'd wake up, greeted by a "_YAHOO!_", or a punch, or a kick to the face. Needless to say by the end of the week, he was utterly amused but badly bruised and battered by his wake up calls. The days rolled by with ease, he'd always find something to do, whether it was just walking, sleeping, slight training, talking to Black*Star or riding his motorcycle.

The longest day seemed to be the night he took his motorcycle around town. He performed miniature tricks, popping a few wheelies and checking out a few stores. He took his time exploring the academy, memorizing almost every square inch of it. He came back to Black*Star frantically running around down the hall, chased by Sid.

_"Is this what he calls training?"_, thought Soul, trying his best to stay out of the cross fire of the appending chase.

"Black*Star! Get back here!", screamed Sid.

"YAHOO!", Black*Star screamed in response, throwing his hands up and running around like a lunatic.

Soul shrugged it off, heading back down to his holding cell. He was dead beat tired, and he didn't really know why. He knew he was a little tired on the trip, and Black*Stars goodmorning was a little rough, but other than that he had no reason to be. He'd eaten at his normal time in the cafeteria, he'd gone to bed early, he didn't have an explanation. He was just plain tired.

That didn't mean much to him though, he only dozed off into sleep, as the sound of Black*Star running for his life, and Sid cursing at the fast, deranged boy became more and more soothing by the second.

He had the dream at last.

_"Soul."_, a pure voice called.

"Granny, I don't know what to do.", he replied, following the light.

_"Find your Meister, you'll know when you meet them."_, his grandmothers voice rang through his ears, _"once you find your Meister, protect that person you hold dearest to your heart. Protect them with your mind, body, and soul."_

"What if my Meister doesn't like me. What if they think I'm no good.", he sighed in defeat.

_"Soul, I cannot help you, finding your Meister is a decision that's completely up to you. Once you find that person, you'll know."_

"How will I know?"

_"Soul, trust me. You will find your Grigori angel."_

Just like that, she vanished into the light once more.

Soul jolted up in his bed once more, hearing chatter erupt from above. This wasn't Black*Star, it was the sound of more than one person, which was soon followed by what he recognized to be Black*Stars screaming. He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he heard a crack and a loud drop. Probably Black*Star, but he shrugged it off, when finally, it hit him.

Today was the day.


	12. A New Beginning

This was his last chance, he was finally going to find his Meister start a new life. He'd already made the call of ditching his last name, but he'd planned to do that from the very beginning. Being an Evans man no longer brought the same feeling of "_power_" as it once did so many years ago, even if he was only that just a short week ago.

He shook his head and sighed.

Now was not the time to be thinking like that, now was the time to get ready. People had already arrived, and at the time it was likely his Meister had already found a better, more worthy weapon partner. No, he had to keep his hopes up.

He reached into his bag and grabbed the first thing he'd felt. He pulled it out of the bag and took a look at his favorite red and black suit, perfect. He changed quickly and made his way slowly up the steps. He wasn't sure how many people would be around, and running up there in a hurry would only make him look desperate. Then he realized something, there would be people up there. Judgmental cruel, mean spirited people. How would he be able to tell his Meister apart from all of the rest? He'd just have to find out.

_"Calm down, once you find your Meister you'll know. Remember, you will find your Grigori angel."_, a voice chimed in his head.

_"What's a Grigori angel anyway?",_ he sighed to himself.

No answer, of course.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, assuring himself that looks wouldn't matter to his Meister, and proceeded up the stairs. The halls were deserted, there was no sign of life anywhere. He found Sid wandering around near the door, messing with a few decorations on the wall that he'd failed to notice before.

"Hey Sid what's up?", he called.

"Oh, I'm setting a few things up for the gathering later, aren't you supposed to be outside with all of the others?", he replied, nearly falling off of his miniature ladder that was leaning up against the wall.

"I don't know. Why is everyone out there, shouldn't they be in here or something?"

"No, this is the mash up of the weapon and Meister pairs, this is the morning people will scatter and search for their Meisters. Once they find them, they go to the ball room on the other side of the school, I'm not surprised I haven't heard Black*Stars voice in here for a while."

Soul panicked, what if he went outside and nobody was there? What if everybody had found a Meister or weapon partner already. It was settled, he was doomed.

He sighed, taking a deep breath.

Sid must have sensed how nervous he was, "Hey kid, don't worry about it, not everybody finds a Meister on the first day. We're not gonna kick you out just because you don't have a Meister, instead of full on training we can stick you to something easy, like souls and stuff."

Soul nodded, taking another deep breath and heading out the door. He panicked, he had been right, nobody was outside.  
Nobody except Black*Star, talking to a strange girl. He took a few steps closer, as her details became a big clearer. She was wearing a brown jumpsuit with the word "_Weapon_" written on a name tag taped to her chest. She had long dark raven hair pulled back into a pony tail, trailing down her back. She looked kind, she had wide purple eyes and a charming face.

"Yo Soul!", Black*Star screamed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey Black*Star.", he replied, joining the two.

"_Tsubaki_, this is _Soul_. Soul, this is Tsubaki, she's gonna be my weapon partner! Yahoo!", Black*Star screamed, resuming another warrior stance.

_"This is seriously his partner?"_, Soul thought, taking a look at the girl who seemed much too sweet to be paired up with an arrogant assassin such as Black*Star. Then again, Black*Star did get easier to be around. He had to give him that.

"Nice to meet you.", Tsubaki smiled.

"Sup.", Soul replied, trying to maintain his cool, in an attempt to somehow not "_frighten_" the girl. She couldn't really be so fragile could she? He didn't want to take the chance for now.

"So Soul, have you found your Meister yet?", Black*Star asked, placing curious fists to his sides.

"Not yet, I woke up a little too late. You don't think all the good Meisters are taken do you?", he asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"No way! The parties just getting started! Let's go! I can't wait anymore, I have to show off my weapon!", Black*Star chanted, making Tsubaki slightly red around the cheeks, following him inside. Soul reluctantly followed, figuring he'd might as well stick around in case Black*Star was in too far over his head.

They took a step inside, still not noticing anybody nearby.

"Black*Star where is everyone?", he asked.

"They all left when I made my grand entrance, I guess my godly power was too much for them!", he insisted.

"Well alright.", Soul sighed, knowing very well asking was hopeless.

"Maybe they're all in the ballroom, or maybe a few of them just got lost, that's all.", Tsubaki chimed in, following close behind Black*Star.

"With a big star like me around it's pretty hard for people to get lost Tsubaki, they can follow me if they're lost! I'm _always_ there for people like that, no sweat!", Black*Star insisted once more, breaking into another, different warrior pose.

Tsubaki smiled, Soul noticed. It became a little easier to see why Tsubaki partnered up with him, Black*Star wasn't the quietest, or smartest person, but no matter the circumstances he was a sturdy Meister. Someone to lean on, who'd accept a person no matter what. He had to admit, that was pretty cool, but he needed a level headed Meister. Someone who wouldn't drive him absolutely mad. He only feared for Tsubaki.

"Aha! The ballroom!", Black*Star chimed up, running across the hall into a supply closet.

"Black*Star! That's not the ballroom!", Tsubaki sighed, following him.

Soul sighed, knowing very well if he'd followed them any longer he'd end up lost, or so late that all of the Meisters would in fact be gone before he even got the chance to show up.

He took a few steps down a long, narrow hallway. There were a couple doors on the left and the right, they looked like classrooms. Soon he came across a set of stairs, figuring exploring would be better than wandering around like an idiot until he stumbled upon the ballroom, or in Black*Stars case, a supply closet.

He paused when he noticed a wide set of brown double doors. They somewhat reminded him of home, his curiosity couldn't help but peak. He had to find out if it looked the same on the inside. A part of him hoped it would be the ballroom, with his Meister waiting for him patiently. The other part of him told him it wasn't so, but insisted he'd enter anyway. He did, there was no sense in arguing with himself. He'd lose either way, so he opened the doors silently and took a step in.

The room wasn't anything like he'd expected at all, it was fairly small, and a big more elegant than he'd realized. There were a few end tables, and a couch around, but that was basically it. He shrugged it off, when something that almost made the room look small in comparison, caught his eye. His eye glistened at the sight of the grand piano. It'd been a while since he'd played on his free will, he slapped himself silly when he thought, for a moment, that he'd forgotten what it sounded like.

_"What the hell. Not like anyone's around.",_ he smirked a bit, taking a seat at the piano.

It took a while for him to process what he was about to do. He knew one of the main reasons he'd run away to this strange place in the first place was the fact his parents had forced him to play the piano against his own will so many times in the past. What was the point of running, if he was just running to the same thing? No, it ran deeper than that, he knew it. He shook the thought of his head, raising his hand to the white polished teeth of the piano. It was stunning, it practically called to him.

Just as he was about to touch the first key, a voice interrupted the silence from behind. He panicked, nearly jumping at the sound of the girls voice. He could tell it was a girl, he didn't need to turn around.

"_Hello._", she said in a half small, half excited voice.

"_Hi._", he mumbled, afraid to turn around.

"What's your name?"

"Soul Eater.", he hesitated, unsure if he'd made the right choice in replying.

"Of course you made the right choice, why wouldn't you answer her?", he thought, kicking himself once more.

"I'm Maka Albarn, Meister.", he didn't need to turn around, to tell she was smiling.

"Weapon.", he sighed.

"Were you about to play?", she pointed to the piano.

"_Yes._.", he hesitated, "I mean, no."

"Can I hear you?", she asked, racking his nerves.

"_No,_ I don't play.", he lied, his tone becoming a bit harsh.

"Why not?"

"It's nothing you'd expect.", he frowned, knowing very well if he played the only thing that would amount from the instrument would be a dark, sinister tune that would frighten her.

"Please?"

_"Please? Seriously?"_, he thought.

"I don't think you'd like it.", he sighed, fighting himself as his eyes began to wander behind him. He caught a glimpse of her, she was definitely a girl.

"What makes you say that?"

"Why wouldn't I? What makes you think you'd like it?", he growled.

"I just want to get to know you better, I thought maybe if you'd play It would help me.", she sighed in defeat.

There was a moment of silence.

"This is the kind of person I am.", he sighed, reaching for the piano.

As soon as he'd hit the first note, he realized he'd made a mistake. There was no way she'd want to be his Meister after what he'd just done. He should never entered the room,his foul attitude and his terrible playing would only push her away. No matter what his grandmother said, he knew it was only a matter of time. They would all give up on him eventually, and he'd never find the one he calls his "_Grigori Angel_".

A few more notes, the dark, malice melody erupted through the piano, he could no longer feel the girls presence as he was lost in his playing. The four minute piece took all of the strength out of him, though it felt amazing to feel such freedom just by playing an instrument, the same instrument that had caused him so much pain in the past.

He stopped as soon as it was over, though for some reason the play hadn't left him drenched in sweat from head to toe this time. He had no explanation for that, except maybe the fact he'd been well rested, and he wasn't as angry as he'd been so many other times. He looked behind him, ready to find himself alone, or the girl staring at him with a blank, frightened face. Worst case scenario she'd be crying and possibly slap him. What? It could happen.

Every part of his body was rattled when he turned around.

"I like it.", she smiled.

He felt as if he could collapse right then and there, but instead he just smirked. this time he got a clear look at her.

She wasn't anything like he'd expected, instead she was a bit more, _intriguing_, maybe? He couldn't find the right words. She had creamy, tan skin and long thin legs. A black and red plaid skirt hugged her hips, falling halfway down her thigh. She was wearing a yellow sweater from the bit of her stomach that he could see covered, but the rest was covered by a black button up trench coat, with sleeves that stretched down to her wrists. Her hands were covered with large white gloves. She definitely didn't look like any girl he'd ever seen. She even had two tan pig tails in her hair, hanging down to her shoulders and big green emerald eyes.

"You _like_ it?", he asked, hiding the red in his cheeks.

"Yeah, it was dark, but something about it was really_ amazing_.", she smiled.

"T-Thanks.", he hesitated, still mesmerized by the fact she'd actually listened, and now she was telling him she liked it? No, she even called it amazing. Either he was dead, or he was having one of the best dreams of his lifetime.

"Do you have a Meister?", she asked, pointing to his name tag.

"No, I haven't seen anybody around so far.", he sighed.

"I don't have a weapon, I can't find anybody either. Last time I checked they were outside but now they're just, gone.", she laughed a bit, rubbing the back of her heads.

"What do you say?", she asked.

"_Huh?_", he asked in return.

"Partners?", he smiled, holding a hand out.

Something about it felt right. It was as if there was a force pulling his hand up for him, taking control of his body until all he could do was watch, though he didn't feel like fighting. He was surprised at how willingly he'd held out his hand, and shook hers.

"What are you kids doing in here?", a voice called. It was Sid, "This room is off-limits at the moment, aren't you supposed to be in the ballroom with all the other kids? Where are your partners?", he tapped his foot impatiently against the ground.

"I found my partner, don't worry.", she smiled, pointing a thumb down at Soul.

He looked up at her, then back at Sid.

"Well, alright. Come with me you two, welcome to the academy.", he released his angry foot, leading them both out of the room.

Soul remained silent, all he could do was stare at the girl standing next to him. The closer she got the more and more open he felt himself begin. Even if it wasn't cool, he wasn't in control at the moment. The minute he shook hands with the girl, Maka Albarn, he felt a part of himself slowly surrendering to her. He knew that would be a problem in the future, but for now he was willing to cooperate. Something about her drew him in, that feeling in the back of his mind he couldn't quite place.

"I can't wait to turn you into a death scythe.", she whispered, getting slightly closer.

He looked at her.

"Once I make you into a death scythe, I'll finally have created a weapon stronger than my dad.", she raised her fists in front of her chest, surprising Soul by the way she spoke. She was definitely strong headed, there was no doubt about that. He'd kill for one little peek at her soul right now.

He didn't reply, he knew if he had there was a good chance she wouldn't be listening. The state of mind she was in seemed to be that of self assurance, she clearly wasn't speaking directly to him. Whatever the case, he nodded and flashed a wide, toothy grin. She smiled to herself.

A feeling swelled up in his chest as she spoke. He'd never felt this way around somebody before, he couldn't place it. It was like a mixture of nervousness, and the inner insanity becoming quite territorial, slightly afraid. The words repeated over and over in his mind like a broken record.

She was _his_ Meister.

He repeated it.

_She_ is _his_ Meister.

Again.

_"She is my Meister."_, he smirked silently to himself, "Cool."

He felt it again.

This feeling, was definitely going to take a_ long,_ long, _very_ long time to understand.

* * *

_**~Fin~**_

* * *

_**The End, I think we all know what happens next though. **_

_**Review, I'd love to know how you felt about the story. Likes and dislikes? Strengths and weaknesses? Etc. **_


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